


Warriors: Alt!

by CocoKat



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other, ThunderClan (Warriors)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-10-03 01:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocoKat/pseuds/CocoKat
Summary: Same stuff you know, but different.Special thanks to SSS warriors (specifically its director) for giving me permission to use some of the series' concepts and any other pals I've talked AU stuff with. Also special thanks to @Ribbontini on twitter for offering her feedback and edits on each post. I've just kinda been posting the first or second drafts of this thing so don't expect anything too polished lmaoAnd hey follow me on twitter maybe? @StoatallySpiesJust a forewarning, it gets a bit rough like with mature content so if you're uncomfortable about that kind of stuff then here's a disclaimer.





	1. Start!

The cat stared, as cats often do. It appeared that they were staring off into space, or at least something unknowable to an uninvolved onlooker. Many have wondered _what_ cats stare at and _what_ they are thinking about as they study unseen things beyond human understanding. That gaze of intensity and alertness, their ears pricked in interest. They appear to see things that humans often cannot. However, with this particular cat, the subject is not so unknown or enigmatic, but rather simple. Plain even. It is accompanied by a strong feeling of both curiosity and desire. A calling, if you will.

For this small orange cat with a blue collar attached with a tiny gold bell, it was the forest. The forest seemed to call to him, even in his dreams. Humans often observe the peculiar behavior of cats twitching in their sleep – an indication of a vivid dream. During play, cats naturally have a compulsion to hunt. Even if the prey is a toy or whatever they happen to get their paws on at the time. However, humans can only speculate what cat’s dreams possibly contain, but one can take a guess that it may contain this feeling of that hunt. For this cat, Rusty, that guess is not too far from the truth. He dreamt of running through the forest, chasing mice and birds. The taste of his kills had no flavor in particular, but the feel of eating them was satisfying to Rusty. That is why he now stared into the trees lining the housefolk place, and then extended to unknown reaches. Rusty has only ever gone as far as the garden fence. He loved his housefolk, as they were kind and provided him shelter and food.

 But… the young cat longed for more.

“Hey, Rusty!”

A voice dragged Rusty back to reality and looked over his shoulder at the source. While all housecats were -to an extent- quite plump, Smudge was large even by housecat standards. His housefolk treated him well. Possibly a little _too_ well.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Smudge asked, sinking down onto his haunches, readying to launch his mass up onto the fence.

“Wha-? Just the wood,” said Rusty, shaking his head. The fence shook slightly as Smudge somehow managed to reach the top.

“There are some nasty cats in there y’know,” said Smudge casually. “Wild ones. Big teeth n’ claws n’ such.”

Smudge wasn’t exactly a good friend of Rusty’s, but he was his only friend. Not too many housefolk with cats lived by the wood. Smudge, however, was a kind fellow, but had a tendency to bang on about things – making them sound mundane no matter how interesting the subject matter might’ve been. “Is that so?” Rusty replied. He licked his paw and absently started washing his ears.

Smudge, to Rusty’s surprise, only twitched his ear and said: “Yeah…”

‘ _Yeah_.’ That was all. Rusty expected Smudge to start prattling on about the many rumors he somehow managed to gather about these wildcats, but he only sat as plainly as Rusty, except his tail twitched uncomfortably. Smudge obviously didn’t want to expand on the subject, but Rusty’s curiosity got the better of him. “They in like a gang or something?” he joked. “Like the ones past the road that eat rubbish and pick fights with dogs and other housecats?”

Smudge shook his head and shifted on his paws, now looking at Rusty. “No… well, something like that I guess. There’s groups of em’, hunting n’ fighting n’ whatnot. Though this is only what I heard, mind you.”

“Fighting? Like attacking housecats, yeah?” Rusty pressed.

Smudge shook his head again. “No, no, like _each other_ , mate. Bloody scary is what it is. Although, my mate Bo told me that he saw em’ attack a kit once, no joke. A _kit_!”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “You know for a fact that Bo is a liar, Smudge. The cat will make up anything to get attention!”

“No way,” Smudge argued. “You know how he gets when he’s tellin’ some story we all know is bollocks, yeah? Well this time he wasn’t all bouncy like normal. Cat was dead serious – damn near sullen.”

“That’s true,” Rusty snorted. “Yeah, ‘bouncy’. That’s definitely the right way to describe it.”

Smudge turned his gaze back on the forest. “Just please promise me you’ll stay outta there, Rusty. I get anxious just thinkin’ about the place.”

“Right, right,” Rusty replied with a purr. “You got nothing to worry about, I promise.”

And Rusty lied.

           

 

The call of the hunt did not leave Rusty’s thoughts and dreams that night. Whether it was his own desire, or some kind of destiny, he did not know. Nevertheless, Rusty’s curiosity got the better of him and he would eventually break his promise to Smudge.

Dark forms whipped past Rusty’s nose, accompanied by a mix of offending smells and harsh hisses. He could feel a sort of excited energy off of these forms as they moved through the grass and trees at incredible speeds. Rusty was somehow keeping up with them. He wasn’t exactly running, but rather, was more of a presence observing them. Gliding – disembodied.  The rushing shadows were cats. There was without a doubt. They were lean and muscular, passing over and through any obstacles as if they were made of water.

 _These cats… who are they and where are they going?_ Rusty wondered.

Finally they stopped. Rusty was hit by the stench of wet fur and fish. More cats. They were lither than the ones Rusty had followed. There was a loud yowl and Rusty’s vison exploded with motion. They were fighting. Both groups had engaged in an intense battle. Fur flew – claws and fangs flashed in the moonlight. There were no discernable features to tell who was who, just a mass of spitting shadows. Rusty felt sick, and yet, felt the same thrilling sensation that occupied his dreams night after night. The blood flowing into the grass and shore of the river wasn’t exactly the source of his excitement, but the actual -near otherworldly- pure energy that the combatants gave off in almost visible waves.

Suddenly, one cat called out. “Thunderclan, retreat!” By the sound of their voice, he was a tom. He took off into the brush followed by the group of cats Rusty assumed were this ‘Thunderclan’. Rusty’s heart pounded in his seemingly non-existent chest, and felt lighter than air. His vision was growing dark around its corners, and Rusty found himself fighting to stay within the dream. Something, much akin to a paw of a twoleg, seemed to gently press his head down - down - down. Rusty was submerged in darkness. It was like water, yet he could breathe. From within the dark a bright, but small, flame appeared. It was difficult to look at for Rusty, but he could not take his eyes away. Just one small fire flickering alone in the dark.

Rusty jolted awake. He was shaking, he realized. He stiffly got up and stretched.

“What – that dream…” Rusty muttered to himself. No, more a nightmare than a dream. Possibly even a vision? Rusty shook the ridiculous thought from his mind and wandered aimlessly, still dazed with indistinct fear and confusion. It was afternoon. All the housefolk had gone and the sun shone blindingly through the windows. Rusty’s eyes became focused and he suddenly found himself in the garden. It was that tug in his heart that was leading him -- leading him to the forest. His body moved on its own. Bunching up his legs, Rusty leapt up onto the white fence. The scent of the forest filled his nostrils. There was no hesitation, in both body and mind, when Rusty jumped from the housefolk garden fence and hit the ground running.

Many who have broken some kind of rule or regulation, or chose to come out of their comfort zone in some way, can relate to the feeling of nervous exhilaration Rusty felt at that very moment. Adrenaline was making his heart work overtime as he pelted through the trees, brambles, and bushes. It was much like his dreams, but better. All the sensations Rusty experienced was far more lucid than any dream. While at the same time it felt surreal – it being so similar.

Something made Rusty stop. First a sound, then a smell. Rusty dropped into a crouch and watched, wide-eyed. A mouse. The brown-furred creature scuttled up the root of a giant tree, and raised itself, sniffing the air. That’s when Rusty struck. As fast as his housecat body would allow, he pounced upon the space where the mouse had been. It had scurried off to his left and Rusty dug his claws into the root, turning his momentum towards his prey.

Autumn is a season that typically occurs within the northern hemisphere between the months of September and November – a time where migratory birds and some sea animals migrate to warmer climates. However, what autumn is most famous for is the changing of its leaves in some areas of the world such as England and most of the eastern United States. Many trees lose their leaves, and this change is essential. Leaves, specifically broadleaf or deciduous trees’ leaves, lack the durability to survive winter while also putting the tree they’re attached to at risk. So they must fall for the sake of the tree that bore them. The trunk of a tree is a lot tougher than a leaf, after all.

Rusty had made the mistake of pursuing this mouse during the last weeks of November at this very moment, as he found himself slipping upon one of the many fallen leaves and falling flat on his face.  Rusty groaned and got up. The excitement he felt was quickly diminished by the taste of blood in his mouth. The fall had made him bite his own lip and a stick had poked a small indent into his muzzle. “Battle scars,” he laughed to himself. He broke his promise to Smudge, but at the very least he’d have a funny story. Shaking his head and giving his chest a quick lick, Rusty headed back home. At least, in the direction he believed home to be.

He sniffed the air as he went, desperately trying to find a familiar scent. Rusty was now very aware of how alone and out of place he was in the wood. Suppressing the feeling of panic building in his gut, Rusty forged onward and kept his mouth open to find any clue as to where his garden may be. Every small noise made Rusty’s fur stand on end and he found himself walking faster and faster with every pawstep. But then one noise in particular made the blood freeze in his veins. Rusty’s senses were too slow, however, and he found that his paws had left the ground as he was tackled onto his back. His vision blurred and Rusty swiped the air with his claws at random, hitting nothing. He struck out with his hind legs and his attacker expertly spun away, while grabbing Rusty by the scruff.

“Wharf af yof doif herf?” hissed the hostile cat.

“W-what?” Rusty asked. He couldn’t hear a thing the cat said with Rusty’s scuff in his mouth.

“I sef…”

“I can’t understand you.”

The other cat released his hold on Rusty while spitting out odd hairs. “I said: What are you-“

Rusty let out a yowl and bowled over the enemy cat. Rusty now got a good look at his attacker as he rolled head over paw. The cat was a long-haired grey tom that looked about Rusty’s age. There was no plan other than to run over this cat like a speeding car and escape back to the garden. And that’s exactly what Rusty did, except for the latter part. As soon as Rusty thought he was home free, he felt the other cat’s claws dig into his hind leg.

“Oh no you don’t!” the long-haired cat cried.

“Oi, get offa me!” Rusty shouted indignantly. As soon as he knew what his attacker looked like, the previous fear he felt when he was grabbed from behind had melted away and had been replaced with that unique sense of annoyance one gets when they’re being antagonized by another person of their own age and size. Rusty didn’t exactly know what he expected. Maybe someone a bit bigger? Maybe with long claws and decorated with the bones of their enemies; splattered in blood and covered with battle scars. But this was a cat that appeared about seven moons of age give or take, and looked a lot scrawnier than what Rusty would have imagined.

“I’m not gonna let some trespasser get away from me! This is Thunderclan territory, kittypet!” the grey tom spat back.

 _Thunderclan_! _Like in my dream_ , Rusty thought. “Wait, hold on a sec. Thunderclan. You said Thunderclan, yeah?”

This seemed to confuse the young cat, and he loosened his grip a little. “Yeah, so?” Rusty thought that they both must have looked quite silly with him stopping mid dash and this other cat clinging onto his leg.

“Did you guys…” Rusty trailed off. No, it was a dream. It would be absolutely ridiculous to ask but… “Did you guys –Thunderclan- have a fight recently?”

“Excuse me?” asked the tom, visually baffled. “How in Starclan’s name did you…”

“Greypaw.” A voice of an older she-cat sounded from Rusty’s left; deeper in the wood. The source of the voice emerged from the brush with a much larger, brilliant gold, tabby tom padding beside her. The older she-cat was a pale blue-grey with chips of ice for eyes.

“There you are,” rumbled the golden tom. “And who is this?”

The she-cat, Rusty noticed, had not taken her eyes off of him the moment she appeared. “A kittypet trespasser,” she muttered almost to herself. The sun was setting behind Rusty, and he suddenly became frightfully aware of how dark it was getting. The she-cat’s eyes widened at him and Rusty became increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze. “You fought well, Greypaw,” she said suddenly to the younger grey cat.

“Uhhhh,” Greypaw responded.

The bigger tom with thick fur around his scruff only dipped his head in agreement.

“You,” the she-cat’s attention snapped back to Rusty and he flinched. “What are you doing?”

“H-hunting?” Rusty said hesitantly. He could have sworn he heard a faint snort from the large tom, but his face remained neutral.

“Hunting? Indeed…” the she-cat’s whiskers twitched. “I am Bluestar, leader of Thunderclan. What are you called, kittypet?”

 _Thunderclan!_ The she-cat spoke of the group of cats fighting a great battle in Rusty’s dream the night before. However, the cat that had ordered the retreat was not in fact the cat with the piercing eyes that stood before Rusty. “I’m Rusty, miss.” he replied. Rusty swore he saw a hint of humor twinkle in the she-cat’s eyes before she resumed her scowling expression.

Despite the cold face she gave Rusty, she tilted her head in interest. “Rusty,” she said, as if testing the name on her tongue. “I would like to present you with an offer. To choose a different path than the one you tread. You hunted on our grounds and we stalked you before Lionheart’s apprentice attacked you. We were monitoring his hunting as well.” She nodded in the direction of the long-haired gray tom. “I have to say, your technique wasn’t too bad despite the unfortunate fall.”

Rusty felt his ears turn hot.

“You dream of more, Rusty the kittypet.” Bluestar stated. “Walk with Thunderclan, if you so wish to fulfill those dreams and perhaps it will benefit the both of us.”

“Bluestar-” The cat Rusty had assumed was Lionheart started, but was cut off by the rising of his leader’s tail.

“You needn’t decide right this moment. Meet us tomorrow at sunhigh at the edge of the forest with your answer.” With that, she offered a brisk nod to both Rusty and the other two toms, and the three wild cats stalked away without so much as a backward glance.  

Rusty was beyond baffled. He had hardly said anything at all and yet he felt his fate moving and stretching ahead of him. But a single feeling rose through the din of confusion and vague fright. Which way was home? “Um…” Rusty said, but he then saw the blue-grey she-cat point her tail to his right before she and the others disappeared into the undergrowth.

Rusty walked home with a hollow feeling in his stomach. The weightlessness felt as if it was about to carry him from the forest floor and into the reddening sky. It was a melting pot of shock, fear, and excitement. Truly, this is what Rusty wanted. Right? Rusty shook his head and tried to organize his thoughts to no avail. He had travelled farther into the forest than he had even been, fought a wild cat, and received an invitation to join the other cats in the forest. But why? Before long, Rusty found himself in front of his own fence to the housefolk’s garden. Perched on top was a large, nervous-looking lump of fur.

“Rusty! For heaven’s sake where have you been?” Smudge cried. “You’ve been gone ages! Mate, you look awful.”

“Thanks,” Rusty muttered dryly. “I’ll tell ya about it in the mornin’, Smudge.”

“Oi!” He objected. “You don’t get to stalk off to bed while I’ve been here waiting—worried sick!”

“Goodnight, Smudge.” Rusty let himself through the catflap and heard an irritated sigh behind him, then the wobble of the fence as Smudge dropped down into his own garden. When Rusty entered the house the larger female houseperson cooed and stroked Rusty’s back nicely. He gave her a friendly trill and slinked off to his bed in the corner of the kitchen and living area. Rusty noticed that his bowl had been filled, but he felt too exhausted to even eat. He had probably walked longer than any other housecat in his lifetime. He could no longer stand and flopped onto his bed, falling asleep immediately


	2. Battle cats do good fight yeah

 

Rusty woke with a start from a dreamless sleep and shut his eyes against the sun pouring through the windows. _Sunhigh._ Again, Rusty ignored his food bowl and rushed to the catflap. All his housefolk where gone, the house quiet. Rusty prayed he wasn’t late. He jumped to the top of the garden fence and scanned the tree line. A strong feeling of hesitation kept him rooted to the spot. What exactly was Rusty waiting for? A signal?

 _No_ , he thought. _Just gotta go. Just like last time. You want this._ And he did, but something in the back of his mind was telling him to stay away from the wood. He suspected it was just nerves and prepared to leap off the fence when a familiar voice sounded to his left in the neighboring garden.

“In the mornin’ he says – it’s the bleedin’ afternoon!” Smudge grumbled. He joined Rusty on the fence and gave him an irritated look. “Oi, you gonna keep me in the dark an’ just leave?”

Smudge was not someone Rusty would exactly call a friend, but he was the closest thing Rusty had to one. He had always felt out of place among his neighbors and for the first time in a long time Rusty felt almost… at home, in the forest. But, it was still selfish to keep this information from Smudge. He deserved to know, for the sake of his feelings.

“No, sorry Smudge,” said Rusty. “Just got ahead of myself I guess.”

Smudge only huffed and shifted his weigh on the fence.

“Basically, I’ve been invited to join a ‘clan’ of sorts.”

“Oh good heavens you’re in a gang!”

“Noooo!” Rusty said indignantly. “In the forest, the cats there -- they said they wanted me to join them.”

“How on Earth did that happen?” Smudges pelt was so ruffled that he looked almost three times his normal size, his eyes wide in hardly subdued panic.

Rusty sighed. “Look, basically I got into a bit of a fight with one of em’. He was my age, actually, little bit smaller though. Anyway, afterward the leader of the whole thing just came up to me and just, did it? Y’know? Invited me.”

Smudge side-eyed the wood nervously, then looked at Rusty again. “You really gonna go through with it? Leave forever?”

Rusty shook his head. “Dunno, mate. But I _have_ to do this. I have to try it out, at least. Dunno how to explain it – I just gotta do this.”

“Always been a weird one.” Smudge rolled his eyes. “Alright well, it’s not like I can stop you or anything. Just, I dunno, visit or something so I know you’re okay. Otherwise I’ll go mad with worry.” He shuffled his paws, his fur lying flatter. “You know how I get…”

“You got it,” Rusty purred. “Wouldn’t want that now would we?”

“Yeah…”

“Hey,” Rusty said gently. “This ain’t goodbye, Smudge. I’ll be right over there.” He inclined his head towards the forest. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Smudge said nothing, but sat a bit more relaxed-like and neatly curled his tail over his paws. He offered Rusty a nod and stayed there on the fence as Rusty jumped down, heading back towards the wood. Smudge watched him go until his friend was swallowed up by the trees and brush.

Rusty’s heart, despite his comforting words to Smudge, was thumping so hard in his chest it almost hurt. He was heading into the unknown on only a gut feeling and the intriguing words of a stranger. Bluestar, leader of Thunderclan. The group of cats Rusty saw fighting in his dream. Rusty was not the superstitious type, but there was no coincidence to be found. An unknown force was at work here. 

The wind was beginning to pick up, but the sky was clear and blue. As Rusty went he began to wonder if perhaps he passed them. He decided to double back and walk the length of the forest edge. It was at that moment that the wind began to increase in force.

In 1805 a Francis Beaufort, a Royal Navy officer, created what is known as the Beaufort Wind Force Scale, or simply just the Beaufort Scale. It was created in order to measure the force of wind with a rating of 0 to 12, the highest being hurricane level. The rating had nothing to with speed necessarily, but rather the effects the wind had on the environment both on land and sea. What Rusty was experiencing was perhaps, at most, a level 5 or a ‘Fresh Breeze’. Now, however, the wind was becoming much more severe as Rusty could now hear the whistling of it through the swaying trees. A much stronger breeze had begun to pick up and Rusty’s fur blew in the opposite direction uncomfortably.

That was when he was thrown off his paws. For a moment, Rusty had thought that the wind itself had knocked him over, but he now could feel the weight of another living thing on him. In a whirlwind of white and claws and bright yellow eyes, Rusty was slammed up against a tree. He gasped and the air was taken right from his lungs by the wind. Again Rusty was hit from the side by his attacker, this time feeling the sting of claws as they raked down his side.

Rusty regained his balance, spinning on his hind legs, and then crouching low to the ground. The scratches were not deep, but he could also feel a faint trickle of blood seep into his fur. The gale did not falter, but the attacking cat had solidified before Rusty, as if he were made of the air itself.

“I don’t recognize you,” the white tom said in a low and smooth voice, eerily calm.

“W-wait stop!” Rusty cried. “I’m here to meet Bluestar!” It was the only thing he could think of at that moment. The most predominant thought that came to mind was that this was one of the Thunderclan cats who thought he was trespassing.

The white tom laughed. “Really?” he said icily. “I’m afraid that won’t be happening. I’ve killed her, you see.” Rusty’s blood ran cold and the cat slowly approached him. “Seeing a kittypet this far into the forest is one thing, but one off to see the leader of Thunderclan; that’s another story. It would certainly explain why she was wandering the forest with that oaf, Lionheart.” Rusty tensed, prepared to run, but the wild cat’s words kept him frozen to the spot. “You’re more than welcome to run… or fight… or even just stay where you are -- makes no difference to me. Though, I would choose option three if I were you. Your death will be faster and more painless that way.”

Rusty couldn’t think. He was completely overcome by fear, and yet, he unconsciously took notice of the cat’s movements. While appearing to walk casually over to where Rusty was standing, he noticed the white tom’s muscles were tensed, prepared to pounce. He waited, and then there was the gust of wind that blew right in Rusty’s face. Once again his vision was filled with white lighting as the tom struck. Something made Rusty dodge right, and a single claw caught his ear. Within the whirlwind, the white tom seemed to hesitate, but continued his attack.

At this point in time, Rusty’s conscious mind had given into terror and was completely shut down, awaiting death. But something far more powerful bubbled to the surface of his soul. The will to survive. An instinct that seemed to guide him. Rusty was perfectly aware of what was happening and despite feeling a cold, loose, and clumsy sensation throughout his body he still lunged towards his attacker. However, his aim was not to clash with the muscular wild cat that moved faster than anything Rusty has ever seen, but to go right under the tom and kick at his vulnerable belly with his hind claws. But due to the other cat’s speed, Rusty’s attack only landed a single scratch. However, _because_ the white tom was moving so fast, Rusty’s blow had slightly winded him and that was the opening he needed.

Rusty leaped towards the wild cat and bit his tail. The other cat thrashed and spat. “Are you stupid, kit? You’ll really take me on? I’ve just killed the Thunderclan leader and one of the clan’s most powerful warriors! What makes you think you can win?”

Rusty was thrown off and he dug his claws into the ground, skidding to a stop. A kind of momentum was building in the young cat’s chest. It was a strong feeling he previously couldn’t identify, mistaking it for pure terror. But no, it was anger -- cold anger at the cat that stood before him. It surprised even Rusty, for he had never felt like this in his life. This cat was a killer and had taken the lives of two cats he had seen just yesterday.

“I can’t,” Rusty hissed.

“What was that?”

“I absolutely cannot win!” Rusty crouched low and bared his teeth. “But I can’t run away either. Not with a cold-blooded killer right in front of me!”

The white tom’s form blurred with the strong wind, and again lighting struck, but Rusty was ready. This time he went up. The closer he got to the attacking cat the stronger the wind became. So strong in fact, it lifted Rusty right off his paws, but not before he pushed off the ground with all his strength and brought down a kick onto the tom’s muzzle. Rusty twisted and managed to get in a swipe at his nose as well. In that instant, the wind died. Not gradually, but immediately, the weather returning to normal.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow!” the tom cried, burying his nose into the fur on his chest and clutching his face with his paws.

Rusty paused, panting, and unsure. The bushes behind him rustled and Rusty whipped around, prepared for another attack. But a she-cat with blue-gray fur and bright blue eyes emerged from the undergrowth, followed closely but a familiar golden tabby tom.

“Bluestar?” Rusty gasped. “Lionheart?”

Bluestar dipped her head in Rusty’s direction and looked over his shoulder. The white tom came over, shaking his head.

“I’ve might’ve pushed him a little too hard,” he said sheepishly.

Lionheart gave a rumbling laugh. “Kit got you pretty good, Whitestorm. But an ‘oaf’? Really?”

The tom, Whitestorm, shook his head again. “What? I had to _really_ sell it!”

“And you played your part wonderfully,” Bluestar said. She blinked at Rusty. “Well done, Rusty. A lot better than I anticipated, actually.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Rusty stammered.

“Bluestar had me play the part of some blood-thirsty rogue in order to test you,” said Whitestorm. He winced and licked his paw, running it over his muzzle.

“Have Spottedleaf take a look at that when we get back,” said Bluestar, and Whitestorm nodded. She turned her attention back to Rusty. “This kind of test isn’t exactly something we do, as Thunderclan has never ‘recruited’ before. I apologize for the confusion, but these are unique circumstances.”

“Oh…” was all Rusty could say in reply. One minute he thought he was fighting for his life, and the next…

This was all so sudden.

Bluestar flicked her tail in the direction of the brush her and Lionheart previously emerged from. “Come along, Rusty. We’re going back to camp. I’d like to properly welcome you into Thunderclan.”

Rusty’s paws felt like stone as he followed the forest cats. As to where, he did not know, but Rusty didn’t know what else to do. He had made up his mind and set out into the wilderness to join Thunderclan, to find that unknown something that was like an itch he could not scratch. But his resolve was slowly diminishing. Now he wasn’t so confident in his decision. The large cat, Lionheart, took notice of Rusty’s hesitation and slowed his gait to match Rusty’s.

“What’s on your mind, kit?” he asked in a soft, rumbling tone so the others could not hear him.

“Lionheart, right?” said Rusty. The big cat nodded. “I… I thought I was so sure about this but…”

“Having second thoughts?” said Lionheart. He purred a little. “Understandable. I don’t mean to put any pressure on you, but, our leader seems to believe in you. She was quite persistent in pursuing you as a candidate for our clan.”

“She was?” said Rusty, surprised.

Lionheart nodded.

Rusty thought for a moment. He hardly knew Bluestar, but hearing that such a strong and fierce-looking cat had faith in someone like him… it made his paws tingle. There was a warm rush through his chest; a second wind for Rusty’s resolve. Perhaps he really could go through with this after all, even if just to wait and see why the Thunderclan leader believed in a housecat.

Lionheart seemed to take notice in Rusty’s change in disposition. “Do me a favor, Rusty, and keep this between you and I.”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

Lionheart paused, seeming to think on his words. “Politics.”

“Politics?” asked Rusty.

“In a manner of speaking,” Lionheart replied. “It’s a lot more complicated than that, but let’s just say that Bluestar’s opinion of you must stay between the four of us for now.” He nodded towards the other two cats ahead of them. “Understand?”

Rusty did not get the impression that Lionheart was an untrustworthy cat. His words were genuine and Rusty felt he could confide in the large golden tom. “Alright, jaws are sealed!”

Lionheart’s whiskers twitched in amusement and motioned for Rusty to quicken pace. The four cats pushed past a large patch of brush and Rusty found himself standing at the entrance of a cat-size bramble tunnel. Sitting to the side of it was a tabby tom. He dipped his head in greeting at the approaching cats. If Rusty didn’t feel intimidated before, he did now. He was surrounded by five muscular wild cats, entering unfamiliar territory. Rusty felt smaller than he had even been. Even around his housefolk.

Bluestar went through first, followed by Whitestorm. It was then Lionheart inflected his chin at Rusty, motioning him go first. Rusty tried his best to somehow make himself smaller to avoid the brambles, but still a few bits of fur got caught as he went through.

“Why is this tunnel so cramped?” he asked to no one in particular.

“It’s specially designed to control how many cats can get through at once,” Whitestorm replied. “Have to make sure it’s difficult for our enemies to get in… and get out.” The white tom gave a morbid chuckle. Rusty laughed nervously, unsure if Whitestorm might have been joking.

Rusty emerged from the tunnel and was greeted by  a sight that literally took his breath away. It was like his housefolk’s place, with walls and structures, though Rusty had never seen this many cats in one place. Bluestar looked back at him and blinked reassuringly. She said nothing, but flicked her tail towards the giant rock off to Rusty’s far left, right at the edge of the bramble wall. It appeared that underneath the rock there was a mass of hanging lichen.

“Wait here – sit.” said Bluestar. Rusty did so and he watched the she cat bunch up her powerful hind legs and reached the top of the rock in a single jump. Bluestar appeared to take a deep breath, then let out a yowl. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here under the Highrock!”

It was like the entire encampment had come to life all at once. Cats already up and about started amassing, and even more cats came out of various borrows that-Rusty noticed- were carved out of the tree trunks that surrounded the camp. They all gathered a few tail-lengths away from the base of the rock. Rusty then realized Bluestar had instructed him to sit near the base, forcing him to face a crowd of strange cats with a sizable gap between him and them. Rusty estimated about twenty cats all around him, not including the kittens he saw poking their little heads outside a den to his left. There was also a group of cats that gathered outside the entrance of another den just a few tail-lengths away from the one with the kittens. These cats looked a lot older.

“Thunderclan, I have an important announcement to make,” Bluestar began. “As you know with the coming of Leafbare, illness and scarcity of prey is a very real threat to us -- as it is to all clans. We have many healthy kits who will no doubt become excellent warriors one day, however; we simply do not have enough warriors and only have a few apprentices in training.” She paused, almost as if bracing herself. “Thunderclan, I have decided to seek out other means to increase our numbers. I would like to introduce a potential new addition.” She nodded at Rusty below her, and he suddenly became very self-conscious. He felt dozens of pairs of eyes fixated on him. There were murmurs exchanged and twitching tails in the crowd.

“He’s a kittypet!” A cat hollered.

“I am well aware, Darkstripe,” Bluestar responded calmly.

“What is the meaning of this, Bluestar?” called another cat. Soon other cries of outrage and whispers dispersed among the crowd.

“Quie~t,” said Bluestar, hardly raising her voice. The crowd was hushed. “To answer the question you’re all thinking: this young tom holds much potential. I believe that he will become a fine warrior of Thunderclan, if he so chooses. I’d bet all nine of my lives on it.”

Another ripple of murmurs.

Rusty’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a giant paw. Was this was Lionheart meant by “politics”?

“Let’s have him prove his place then!” came an angry yowl. A pale brown cat with black stripes and an exceptionally long tail jumped out of the crowd and landed right in front of Rusty. He had a skinny face and cold yellow eyes. “C’mon, kittypet, show everyone what you’re made of!”

“For Starclan’s sake, Longtail, stop embarrassing yourself!” A she-cat called, and there were several laughs from the crowd.

The cat called Longtail (and for good reason) whipped around and snarled. “Bite me, Mousefur!”

Rusty looked around Longtail, and saw Lionheart staring right at him. The large warrior blinked reassuringly and inflected his head in Longtail’s direction. Rusty somehow understood. It was something in the large warrior’s expression. Something within him desperately wanted to prove he belonged here in this clan of strange wild cats. This feeling was hard to pinpoint for Rusty, but perhaps this was the life that he always desired yet never had the opportunity to grasp. Longtail was now turning back to Rusty and time slowed down as Rusty’s thoughts raced.

This ‘Longtail’, was he like Whitestorm; a cat with abilities? Supernatural powers? Rusty had to assume so. So he had to get the drop on Longtail if he was to stand a chance. He sidestepped in the opposite direction Longtail was turning. He perhaps had only a second before Longtail could register that, One: Rusty was no longer in the place he had been. Two: to turn in the first possible direction where Rusty _could_ be, which was the same direction Longtail was turning back to. And three: to tear Rusty’s throat out with a single swipe. Rusty had to do something before number three happened.

Rusty decided around step two that the direction he needed to go was up. He leapt onto Longtail’s back as the warrior turned around and sank his claws in. Rusty was so taken aback how easily the skin was to break, even with his domesticated claws, though they were in need of a trim. It was his housefolk’s forgetfulness that allowed Rusty to strike first. Longtail let out a yowl and Rusty was hit with something hard -- hard enough to throw him from Longtail’s back. There was a flash as Rusty struggled to get up and a ball of silver hit him in the ribs. He scrambled to get away but the ball came again and again.

“That’s enough, Longtail!” cried a small tortoiseshell cat. She leapt to Rusty’s defense with her fur bristling. She was dappled with orange and brown splotches with a dark ring around one eye.

“Move aside!” Longtail snapped.

“Bluestar?” the she-cat pleaded, looking up at her indifferent-looking leader.

“Move I said!” Longtail shoved her away and that’s when Rusty saw it. The tip of the cat’s namesake tail was glowing silver. He lashed it side to side like a whip, kicking up dust and dirt. Rusty suddenly got an idea.

He struggled to get up, but failed and Longtail cackled. “He’s soft as a rotten log, Bluestar! I have always respected and trusted your judgement, but this?” He shook his head, and that’s when Rusty made his move. He kicked up the dirt with both his hind legs and the spray wound up right on target. Longtail backed up, spitting and cursing, and Rusty leapt through the dust cloud onto his head. Longtail swiped blindly with his tail, glowing with unknown energy, and it scraped Rusty right under his chin and down his chest. There was a stiff snapping sound. Unfortunately for Rusty this gave away his position, but unfortunately for Longtail, it was too late.

Rusty landed on Longtail’s head, spun around onto the warrior’s back, and bit down on the closest thing he could reach with his jaws. Something gave and once again Rusty was flung onto the ground. He shot up immediately, his vision spinning. Longtail was yowling and rubbing his head, which caused droplets of blood to spray upon the dirt and sand. Rusty struggled to find a solid footing while also fighting the searing pain in his sides, neck, and chest from Longtail’s attacks. While burdened with pain, he also felt lighter somehow. Longtail locked eyes with Rusty. A stream of blood trickled down from Longtail’s ear into one of his eyes. There was now a long shred of skin missing his right eartip.

“That’s enough,” came Bluestar’s voice. Rusty had completely lost track of where he was. The rock on which Bluestar stood was now directly in front of him, albeit much, much farther. He was also now aware that his and Longtail’s struggle brought them to the middle of the clearing. The rest of the clan had moved appropriately with the fight, now forming a semicircle around them. Bluestar flicked her tail. “Spottedleaf, see to Rusty’s wounds. Longtail…” she stared down at the tom with her soul-sucking blue eyes. “See me in my den.” With that she leapt from the rock and shouldered herself through the hanging lichen right below. Rusty slowly sat down on his haunches. Now, with the adrenaline fading, the pain increased in intensity.

The she-cat with the dappled coat and amber eyes approached Rusty. “Please come with me,” she said, flicking her tail in the direction of a large rock surrounded by tall ferns. Rusty got up while his legs protested. The cat, Spottedleaf, led him though the ferns then walked right into the rock. She disappeared though a cat-sized crack. Rusty paused, and then began to follow but Spottedleaf popped her head through the crack. “No, no, please wait here,” she said. Her head disappeared into the rock again. Rusty was left in an awkward silence, painfully aware of everyone still staring at him. He kept his eyes forward.  

Spottedleaf reappeared with a bundle of leaves in her mouth and dropped it in front of Rusty. “Eat this. I’ll be back.”

“All of it?” said Rusty, looking down at the mixture of seeds and plants.

Spottedleaf giggled and shook her head. “Yes, all of it. You can do it.” She was about to turn around to return to the crevice when Rusty spoke up again.

“What are they?” he asked, “like, specifically.”

“Certainly a curious one, aren’t you? Another time, perhaps,” Spottedleaf replied. Maybe it was Rusty’s imagination, but there appeared to be a glint in Spottedleaf’s eye. Like as if she was in on a joke Rusty wasn’t. The tortoiseshell disappeared inside the rock again. Rusty inspected the collection of seeds and herbs, sniffed them, then lapped them up. They were bitter and left an unfamiliar feeling on his tongue, though it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Spottedleaf returned with a wad of what looked like cobwebs wrapped around her paw. “Now for that nasty cut on you neck.” It sounded like her mouth was full.

“My…?” Rusty glanced down before realizing how stupid he was. Of course he wouldn’t be able to see an injury on his own neck. Spottedleaf giggled again and Rusty’s ears burned. He didn’t feel a cut. Then again, every part of his body was sore.

“Look up for me,” said Spottedleaf and Rusty complied. The she cat spat in her paw and rubbed it against his neck. The mixture of whatever the she-cat had concocted burned against his wound. “Don’t move,” said Spottedleaf. She then started wrapping the cobwebs around his neck.

“So I take it you’re some kind of vet?” said Rusty, doing his best not to move too much.

“I don’t know what a vet is, but I’m a medicine cat,” Spottedleaf answered.

“That’s kind of the same thing I guess. Cats get injured a lot around here?”

“Yes,” she finished with the wrapping. “We do have warriors for a reason.”

Rusty’s heart skipped a beat. “A lot of battles? With other clans, right?”

“Awfully perceptive for a kittypet, especially for one so young,” Spottedleaf patted the wrappings, making sure they were secure. “Yes. There are other clans like ours. Four to be exact.” Again there was this look Spottedleaf gave Rusty, though this one was more of suspicion. Rusty’s heart beat even faster at the thought of battling other cats. The feeling was that of fear, but also excitement. The effect of the adrenaline of facing off against Longtail still made his body shake ever so slightly and Spottedleaf could tell, but she said nothing. “You’re all set, Rusty.”

“What was that mixture you put on the wound?”

Spottedleaf looked surprised. “It was to prevent infection…” she paused. “It was a mix of comfrey and dock.”

“I see,” Rusty’s eyes sparkled with interest, although he didn’t fully understand.

“Anyway,” Spottedleaf inflected her chin in the direction of the exit of her den. “Let’s get back.”

“Eager to get rid of me?” Rusty teased, getting up and wincing at the soreness of his legs.

Spottedleaf’s whiskers twitched. “Oh yes,” she said sardonically. “That, and I’m actually quite interested in what the kittypet has to say; why he has decided to come to Thunderclan.” She padded past him, taking the lead. Rusty emerged from the den with Spottedleaf to find the clearing just as crowded as it was moments ago. But there was something that glinted in the sun that caught Rusty’s attention. Something metallic.

It was the gold bell attached to Rusty’s old collar. He was so used to having it around his neck it only now occurred to him that it now he was no longer wearing it. “You seem surprised to see it lying there,” said Spottedleaf, seemingly reading Rusty’s mind. “You didn’t mention it while I was wrapping your wound so I thought you already knew. It came off during your fight with Longtail.”

“So that’s where the wound came from…” Rusty murmured. “Of course, I’m so stupid. It was from that cat’s tail…” As if on cue, Longtail emerged from the den below the large rock followed by Bluestar. Spottedleaf shouldered Rusty, motioning to join Bluestar in the middle of the clearing.

Bluestar stopped in front of Rusty’s collar, looking down at it, then up at him. Her face gave nothing away. “Rusty the kittypet,” she began. “Before me lays the mark of you current life -- the collar that binds you to the twolegs that live beyond this forest. Now you have two paths. Will you choose the path of the warrior or will you pick up this collar and go back the way you came? You will never have another chance.”

“I choose to be a warrior,” said Rusty with no hesitation.

“Why?” Bluestar retorted.

This gave Rusty pause. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. Bluestar’s eyes stabbed into his own, waiting for his answer. “Freedom,” Rusty rasped, his mouth dry with nerves. “I cannot fully explain it. Perhaps not yet, but this very moment offers me a chance I will never have again. Being free and having a sense of belonging among you! I promise you this will not be a halfhearted commitment. I truly believe that I want – no, that I _need_ to be here in Thunderclan.”

“Well said, Rusty,” boomed Bluestar. She looked up and shut her eyes for a moment as if in thought. Her icy gaze snapped back on Rusty. She said nothing; only looked upon the young cat whose ginger fur shone in the sun; this cat whose face was a mask of determination; this kittypet that did not even give his collar a second glance and met Bluestar’s eyes, unflinching. The crowd of cats in the clearing was deathly quiet. “From this day forth, you will be known as Firepaw,” Bluestar finally said. “Accept this new name of a warrior apprentice, and thus accept Thunderclan as your new home.”

“Firepaw,” the new ginger warrior repeated.


	3. Everything is fine

Rusty –now newly renamed Firepaw- was unsure of what to do next. He had accepted Bluestar’s invitation to become a warrior in a clan of forest cats, which admittedly was part impulse and part something otherworldly that compelled Firepaw to join Thunderclan in the first place. He could not pinpoint the compelling sensation, but it felt a little like destiny; like it was all meant to be. Not that Firepaw was much a believer in that sort of thing. Though he had to admit the circumstances were certainly unusual.

He looked down again at his collar. It was shredded in the section closest to the bell and the silver ring that held it. Firepaw picked it up, the bell tinkling softly. It sounded louder, now that the clearing was less crowded, which made him flinch. He did not feel any kind of shame, hatred, or disgust towards the thing, but the young cat felt an urge to dispose of it. The collar was no longer necessary and would only be a reminder of the cat he once was. It was time to move on -- to leave the past, in the past.  

            Firepaw carried it to the camp entrance, painfully aware of those watching him, but he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. Walking out and burying the collar to then return; the image itself strengthened Firepaw’s conviction. He dropped it at the base of a tree, dug a hole about a quarter of a tail length, then threw away the collar. It was an object of great significance to Firepaw, and burying in deep in the ground was the best possible feeling. He was not unhappy when he was a so-called “kittypet”, but he was left unsatisfied with the life he had. The feeling left him hollow, but now he felt warm and whole. Without so much as a second glance back, Firepaw reentered Thunderclan camp.

            “Thought you might have changed your mind at the last second,” came a rumbling chuckle.

            “Lionheart!” Firepaw greeted the large golden warrior.

            “I’ll admit, kit, I had my reservations, but so far you’ve impressed me,” Lionheart said warmly, padding over to him. “I’ve got a good feeling about you.”

            Hearing Lioheart’s comments was both encouraging and a little embarrassing to Firepaw, since there were still other cats about that could hear. Regardless he gave the elder warrior a respectful nod. “That means a lot Lionheart, thank you.”

            “Yes, well, don’t thank me quite yet. Your training has only begun. You’re coming on a patrol with myself and Greypaw later on.”

            Firepaw internally groaned. Patrol. The word instantly made his paws feel as heavy as rocks. “Patrol? You mean like, walking? Guarding the territory or something?” Firepaw questioned. He had been through two fights already, plus had to deal with all the other drama today. _Did he eat today?_ Firepaw was nothing short of exhausted.

            “I know you’re tired,” Lionheart said sympathetically, seemingly reading Firepaw’s mind. “But that just means finally settling down at the end of the day will feel all the more satisfying.”

            “That’s certainly a cheery way of putting it,” Firepaw grumbled.

            Lionheart only laughed. “You’re able to rest for the moment. We just have to wait for the sunhigh patrol to come back then we can set off.”

            “Right, thanks,” said Firepaw. He didn’t dare lie down in fear that he may never get back up again, but instead sat on his haunches. Waves of pleasure rippled from his tired legs as they were able to rest. Even just holding himself up was becoming a bit of a struggle.

            “Hey, Firepaw!” The young ginger tom turned to the voice. It was the long-haired apprentice, Greypaw. He trotted over to Firepaw and Lionheart. “We’re heading to the Riverclan border, right Lionheart? Oh my gosh, Firepaw! You’re in for some action if we head there and some of those fishfaces are waiting for us –.”

“We’re going everywhere,” Lionheart cut Greypaw off, his whiskers twitching in amusement. “We will certainly pass by Sunningrocks, but we _will_ be keeping our distance since that land is under dispute. Besides, I believe this will be an apt opportunity to show Firepaw the entire territory.”

Greypaw’s ears sagged a little with disappointment, but kept his voice upbeat. “Alright, you’re the boss! Let’s go!”

“First we wait for the sunhigh patrol,” Lionheart said patiently. As if on cue, a group of cats emerged from the camp’s entrance tunnel. In the lead was a dark tortoiseshell tom with a ginger streak down his back and unusual feathered-looking ears. His tail was also completely red as a fox’s. Following close behind was a dark brown tabby tom; a cat almost as big as Lionheart with long black claws and a noticeable scar across his nose. As a matter of fact, he had battle scars crisscrossing nearly all over the cat’s forelegs, chest, and flank. But they were all, Firepaw noticed, towards the front of his body. The cat with the red tail’s eyes brightened when he caught sight of Firepaw and trotted over, while the dark tabby and the other two cats wandered elsewhere.

“Well, well, well! Who’s this now?” he beamed. He looked at Lionheart expectantly.

“Redtail,” the large golden warrior respectfully dipped his head. “This is Firepaw, a new apprentice. Firepaw – Redtail, deputy of Thunderclan.”

“How do you do?” Redtail’s deep gold eyes sparkled. “Hmph! I’m gone for only one lousy patrol and before I know it Bluestar nabbed herself a new addition to the clan just like that, eh? What? Has she been secretly keeping him in her den this whole time or something?”

“Actually Redtail,” Lionheart replied. “Firepaw here used to be a kittypet.”

“Oooo! How delightful!” Redtail exclaimed. “A kittypet becoming a warrior! Well that ought to be exciting for, right Firepaw?”

“Yes,” Firepaw replied uncertainly. “I can’t wait to get started!”

“That’s the spirit! You’re taking him on patrol?” Redtail asked Lionheart.

“Yes,” the larger warrior replied. “We’re going to try to cover a little bit of everything.”

“Wonderful! Well you all have fun with that. I’ve got to report to Bluestar – Shadowclan up to their old tricks again,” said Redtail with a dramatic eyeroll.

“Anything we need to worry about?” Lionheart asked.

Retail shook his head. “Just them being a bit cheeky, I suspect -- putting their markers only _just_ past our border. Talk about toeing the line, am I right?” he chuckled. “You’re going that way, right Lionheart? You tell me if you see anything, yes?”

Lionheart dipped his head. “Of course, Redtail.”

“And I will be keeping a close eye on _you_ ,” Redtail said to Firepaw with a wink and walked off to the highrock.

Firepaw was a bit taken off guard and thought for just a moment that that interaction hadn’t happened. That Redtail was certainly… unique. He had accepted Firepaw without so much as a smidge of hesitation. “Aright, Lionheart, I’m ready,” said Firepaw, arching his back into a stretch.

Lionheart nodded and looked back at Graypaw. The apprentice was already on his feet, tail lashing in anticipation. “Right,” Lionheart took the lead, but a voice sounded behind them.

“Hold on you all!”

Rusty was about to fall down on the spot. Go? Stay? Make up your minds!

“Tigerclaw?” Lionheart said. It was the large, dark brown tom with the scars and huge claws. The name was certainly appropriate.

“Mind if I join you?” Tigerclaw asked. His tail was straight up in the air with the tip twitching energetically and he wore a sharp kind of smirk on his face that didn’t quite match his battle-scarred appearance. It was mischievous-looking, and even a little charming to Firepaw.

“You’re joking…” said Lionheart. “You _just_ came from a patrol, _and_ you were hunting earlier this morning.”

The muscular tabby pawed the ground and stretched his back downwards. “I dunno. I think I’m just feelin’ myself today,” he said cheerfully. “Plus, I heard young Firepaw here –a former kittypet no less- went claw to claw with Longtail.” Tigerclaw glanced down at Firepaw, again with that same smirk. “It would be a missed opportunity to see how an outsider reacts to, well,” Tigerclaw gestured around them with a flick of his tail. “All of this.”

Lionheart sighed. “Very well. I thought of requesting Whitestorm but, since you’re so enthused to go on _yet another_ patrol, it seems we’re set to head on out.”

 _Get on with it!_ Firepaw thought. His tired limbs couldn’t take much more delay. As much as he wanted to see Thunderclan territory, his paws disagreed. Finally the four cats were off and through the gorse tunnel, Lionheart and Tigerclaw in the lead while the two apprentices followed close behind.

Greypaw nudged Firepaw with his shoulder as they walked. “Busy day, huh?” he joked.

“No kidding,” Firepaw replied. “Not every day you get to fight a wild cat with a magic tail. Anyone care to explain that by the way?”

“I was waiting for you to ask,” Lionheart called over his shoulder. Firepaw had neglected to. Too much happened in such little time he never really had a moment to reflect on any of the information he had absorbed.

Greypaw’s eyes widened. “Wait, you don’t know about the blessings of Starclan?”

 _Blessings? Oh dear…_ Firepaw thought, but just shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

Firepaw’s response actually seemed to excite his fellow apprentice. “Can I tell him, Lionheart?”

Both Lionheart and Tigerclaw chuckled. “Go for it,” said Lionheart.

“Okay so,” Greypaw began. “Starclan is like, all the spirits of the ancestors of all the clans -they live in Silverpelt- and they grant the cats of the clans unique blessings that help them hunt, fight, and heal.”

“Well said,” Tigerclaw commented.

“Wait, _on_ Silverpelt or _in_ …”Greypaw mumbled to himself. “Well no, ‘cause how do you live _on_ a collection of stars… it’d be _in_ right?”

“Am I picking up where you left off?” Lionheart joked.

“ _Nooo_ I got it!” Greypaw objected. “Yeah anyway, some get blessings as soon as they’re kits, but most only get their blessings when they become a warrior or if they’re a medicine cat they have to visit Mothermouth and the Moonstone.”

Greypaw was practically burying Firepaw in all these clan terminologies and his mind scrambled to organize them all. Where would Firepaw even start the next line of questioning, if at all? Lionheart seemed to choose for him.

“Mothermouth is the name of a cavern up north of here,” Lionheart explained. “The Moonstone is what we consider a sacred object that allows us to commune with our ancestors.”

“Hey!” Greypaw protested. “I said _I_ was gonna tell ‘em!”

Tigerclaw and Lionheart traded amused looks. “Very well. I’m sorry Greypaw, please continue,” said Lionheart.

Greypaw’s eyes shined as he looked back at Firepaw. “Where was I… oh yeah! So as Lionheart said about the Moonstone and talking with Starclan, that’s where leaders and medicine cats go to get prophecies and the leaders get nine lives when they become leader and-.”

“Hold on a second,” said Firepaw. His heart twanged with guilt as Greypaw looked visibly disheartened at the interruption. _He was on a roll._  

“Sorry, I was rambling, wasn’t I?” Greypaw murmured.

“It’s just a lot of information at once, that’s all!” said Firepaw. “I promise I’m listening I just, need to gather my thoughts I guess. You did answer my question, though!”

“Oh yeah… you really did only ask the one question,” Greypaw laughed. “Woops.”

“So hold on a second,” said Firepaw. “You said the leaders get… nine lives?”

“Yup!” Greypaw said a matter-of-factly. “From Starclan! They might get prophecies too, just like medicine cats!”

“I see…” Firepaw tried to imagine a stone in a cave that contained magic powers; bestowing these ‘blessings’ to these cats. Firepaw didn’t _not_ believe Greypaw. He had seen these abilities firstpaw. As for communing with their dead ancestors and receiving prophecies -- that seemed a little dubious. He heard a rough laugh ahead of him.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how this all sounds to you,” said Tigerclaw. “It must be a tad overwhelming.

“A little,” Firepaw admitted sheepishly. “But I think I get the gist of it.”

“Here we are,” Lionheart announced. “Come on over Firepaw. Take a look.”

They had come to the edge of the forest and Firepaw padded over to the warriors ahead. They were standing on a sizable ridge overlooking the most beautiful view Firepaw had ever seen. Before him was a vast, green openness with a river running directly below. To his right he could see the rest of the tree line, then slowly thinning out into large sloping moorland. Right in front were four great oak trees – bigger than any tree Firepaw had ever seen. Beyond them was an expanse of marshes and pine trees.

“You see those great oaks down there?” Tigerclaw asked him.

Firepaw nodded, still sweeping his gaze across the view.

“That is where the four clans meet every full moon. It’s like a truce. The leaders announce anything worth announcing and the other clans are able to mingle, share stories, gossip, and so on.”

“Amazing…” Firepaw breathed. A question, like a stiff breeze suddenly blowing in his face, rushed to the forefront of his thoughts. “Wait. A truce? Are you _all_ at war?”

Lionheart chuckled. “’War’ is a harsh way of putting it, but at the moment -as you may have already figured- we’re not on very friendly terms with Riverclan. Shadowclan basically picks a fight with anyone if they’re bored, it seems. And Windclan usually keeps to themselves.”

“Are you always fighting?” Firepaw asked in surprise.

“Well not always,” Lionheart replied. “We just protect our borders and make sure no prey is stolen or if anyone trespasses for whatever reason.”

“So you’re quite strict about borders then?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” A little knot of frustration began to form in Firepaw’s gut. He just didn’t understand what Lionheart was telling him.

“Why?” Lionheart echoed, blinking. “It’s because the clans each have their own territories to protect.”

“I’m sorry Lionheart, but, that just doesn’t make any sense to me,” said Firepaw.

“What about it doesn’t make sense to you?” said Tigerclaw. The warrior’s tone was neutral, but Firepaw flinched a little, thinking he had offended him somehow.

“It’s just… I dunno, it seems a bit silly that the clans just don’t work together. Like wouldn’t everyone be better off helping each other and not fighting?” said Firepaw.

Lionheart only smiled. “You have a kind and earnest heart, Firepaw. That will make you a great warrior one day, but these are our ways. It gives us balance in the forest to have four clans rather than just one.”

Tigerclaw’s amber gaze burned through Firepaw, but the tabby warrior dipped his head at him. “An interesting proposal,” his eyes sparkled and Firepaw’s ears burned, realizing the warrior was teasing him.

“Well if we’re gonna combine clans I wanna leave Riverclan out of it!” Greypaw objected. “No way I’m sleeping in the same camp with those fishfaces!”

“You won’t have to ever worry about that, Greypaw,” Lionheart chuckled. The large warrior inflected his head in the direction of the tree line that sloped down to the moorland and the patrol was off again. “The four clans have always lived in relative harmony,” Lionheart continued. “To suddenly interrupt that harmony would plunge the forest into chaos.”

“Unless of course this hypothetical combining of all four clans was gradual and organized,” Tigerclaw added with a playful look in Firepaw’s direction.

Firepaw noticed Lionheart gave the warrior a brief side glance, but said nothing else. “So here is where we’ll be walking along Riverclan’s border,” Lionheart said, changing the subject. “However, right in front of us towards Four Trees is Windlcan’s.” The land beyond was of wide open plains. Firepaw had never seen a space with so little trees other than a road. There was moorland as far as the eye could see.

“Does Windclan also have a camp?” Firepaw asked.

Lionheart nodded. “They do indeed. However, it is near invisible. It’s said that no one outside of Windclan has laid eyes nor paw on it. Even Shadowclan’s camp isn’t as well-hidden as Windclan’s.”

“I suppose they must, seeing as they have little to no cover out here,” Firepaw muttered to himself.

“Exactly,” said Tigerclaw, making Firepaw jump. He took note of the Warrior’s acute hearing. Firepaw often talked to himself under his breath and no one has ever clearly heard him up until now. Though, those he’s been around were fat, spoiled housecats and not wild cats with magic powers.

“We’ll be steering clear of Sunningrocks for now,” said Lionheart. “But here is where Riverclan’s territory meets Four Trees.”

Firepaw took in the view. Riverclan’s territory was nearly entirely grasslands. The river ran before him, and beyond that was a waterfall that fell into a gorge. A housefolk’s bridge ran across it in the direction of Four Trees. Further away was a field where cows grazed. There wasn’t much left to go as the cats made their way past the river and Four Trees, and then turned away from Riverclan’s territory, and Windclan’s beyond.

“What do you think so far, Firepaw?” Greypaw asked excitedly.

“I really don’t know what to say,” Firepaw said. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen!”

Greypaw gave Firepaw a satisfied twitch of his whiskers and said nothing else.

The patrol walked along the edge of a road. Firepaw suddenly recognized where he was. When he went to that place to get jabbed, his housefolk took _this_ road. It was bizarre to be on the outside rather than looking from inside the car. The territory to Firepaw’s left apparently belonged to Shadowclan, and he could see why. It was an expanse of marshland and dark pines scattered throughout. Unlike Thunderclan’s territory, Shadowclan’s forest was sparse and had far more dead trees devoid of leaves. The deep darkness the clusters of trees held sent shivers up Firepaw’s back. He was thankful that the road ran between him and that place, but shook his head at the ridiculous feeling of gratitude. It was a piece of land, nothing more. And yet Firepaw could not shake the sensation that clung to his pelt like cold mud. Maybe the land itself had powers of its own.

“Do you feel it?” Tigerclaw’s voice startled Firepaw out of his thoughts.

“P-pardon?” he asked.

Tigerclaw laughed. “I saw the hairs on your back rise as we approached the border,” he explained. “I don’t blame you. In fact most of us get that reaction, even Lionheart.”

The large golden warrior said nothing, but nodded with a grunt.

“Why is that?” Firepaw said.

Greypaw stopped and spun around on his hind legs. “ _Nooobody knooows_!” he said in an eerie voice, raising his paws. Tigerclaw playfully pushed him back down.

“Well, yes, no one actually does know,” said Tigerclaw. “However, when it comes to Shadowclan there is a lot we don’t know. They’re quite a secretive bunch, even at gatherings.”

“Always got something to hide,” Greypaw agreed.

“Doesn’t everyone?” said Firepaw.

Tigerclaw flashed him a crooked grin. “That is very true. Even the cats with the best intentions hide things for one reason or another.”

“So what do you think is giving off that feeling, Tigerclaw?” Firepaw asked.

Tigerclaw looked genuinely surprised. “You’re asking me?”

“You’re the only Tigerclaw around, aren’t you?”

Tigerclaw burst out laughing. “I’m starting to like you, kit.” He shook his head. “Like I said, no one really knows. Some say the territory itself is cursed, or it’s the blessing Brokenstar received from Starclan; the ability to cause fear just from being near him.”

“And is it?” Firepaw asked.

“Old Brokenstar? Sure he’s a little scruffy and needs to wash more often, but I wouldn’t say he gives off a _fear-inducing_ aura.”

Lionheart flicked Tigerclaw in the ear with his tail. “Have a little respect.”

Tigerclaw flicked him back. “You know it’s true. You’ve smelled him.”

Firepaw stifled a laugh. The two warriors were acting like cats his age.

“HELP!”

The four cats stiffened as a voice came from Shadowclan territory. Immediately the warriors and Greypaw sniffed the air.

“What is it?” Firepaw hissed.

“It’s definitely Shadowclan but…” Tigerclaw trailed off.

“It sounded like a kit!” said Greypaw.

The tall grass across the road trembled and split as a cat came out in a dead sprint. It _was_ a kit -- couldn’t be older than maybe four or five months. They were cream-colored with brown paws and orange eyes.

“Stop!” Lionheart boomed, but the young cat didn’t slow down. They leapt up onto the road, and as soon as their paws touched the hard black surface Firepaw felt a slight tremor beneath his paws. The road was not a straight shot. Right before it passed between Thunderclan and Shadowclan territories there is a curve obstructed by trees. A bright blue car had rounded the corner and was heading straight towards them. The housefolk, Firepaw remembered, liked to speed down this road because once they got past that curve it was an absolute straight line. The kit was too late in noticing the car. They were halfway to the Thunderclan side before they skidded and tried heading back.

Tigerclaw stepped in front of the two apprentices. “Shut your eyes.”

The car’s horn blared as it rushed past them. Firepaw was left trembling as Tigerclaw moved. Firepaw was not fully prepared to see the carnage the car might’ve left behind, but the road was clear. On the other side were two other cats, one holding the cream-furred kit with the brown paws by the scruff. The kit’s eyes were wide with fear and shaking. Without a word, the two Shadowclan cats slinked back into the brush.

“What in the world was _that_?!” Greypaw said.

“Shadowclan,” said Lionheart. “One of them just ran and rescued that kit at the last second.”

 _Why were they running?_ Firepaw thought. He wondered why a kit would run from -who he assumed were- his clannmates? “That kit was calling for help,” Firepaw pointed out. “Maybe they’re in trouble!”

“Maybe,” Lionheart said, his gaze still glued to the tall grass across the road like he expected another kit to burst out running.

“If they are it’s out of our paws,” muttered Tigerclaw. Maybe he was imagining it, but Firepaw thought he heard a hint of bitterness in the warrior’s voice.

“Right, let’s go,” said Lionheart. He blinked at Firepaw.  “You must be hungry. Let’s get you something to eat.”

“I could eat!” Greypaw said.

“I bet you could,” joked Lionheart. “Except you ate right before patrol, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You _are_ mistaken.”

“Nice try.” Lionheart took the lead with Tigerclaw close behind. Firepaw’s mind was occupied with thoughts of the young cat across the road all the back to Thunderclan camp.


	4. the author got tiredd but hey more fight cats

What Firepaw had witnessed earlier at the Shadowclan border was certainly concerning; however, his overwhelming hunger prevented him from forming full, cohesive thought. It felt as if his stomach was eating itself.

“Have you eaten at all?” Greypaw asked Firepaw, looking him up and down.

“…no,” Firepaw said. “Why?”

“You’re… not really walking in a straight line. I kind of noticed you were, like, swaying.”

“Uh oh,” Firepaw said dumbly. His head was enveloped in fog and his legs felt weak. Tigerclaw laughed and Lionheart gave Firepaw a glance over his shoulder.

“Almost home, kit,” Lionheart said.

Sure enough, moments later the gorse tunnel came into view. The patrol, with Tigerclaw in front, filed in. Once through, Greypaw suddenly stopped in his tracks. He whipped around to face Firepaw, startling him.

“Hold on a second! You haven’t had prey before, have you?” he asked excitedly.

Firepaw blinked. “Uh, no, I guess not.”

“Well come on!” Greypaw called, running off. Ignoring the burning soreness in his legs one last time, Firepaw plodded after his fellow apprentice. Greypaw skidded to a halt near a somewhat shallow pit. When Firepaw got closer, he noticed that the pit was filled with animal corpses.

“Oh you just… keep it in a pile,” said Firepaw.

“Yeah this is the fresh kill pile!” said Greypaw.

“Uh huh…”

“Here,” Greypaw reached in and pulled out some small mammal in his jaws. “Try this! It’s one of my favorites.”

Firepaw bent down and sniffed at it dubiously. “Is this safe?”

Greypaw giggled. “Course it is, mousebrain. Just try it!”

“Mmkay,” Firepaw scrunched up his face and his closed his jaws around the dead animal and took a bite. “Oh…”

“Well?” Greypaw asked expectedly.

Firepaw chewed once. Then twice. Three times. As the taste of the animal’s flesh and blood passed over his tongue and down his throat a shiver of pleasure went down Firepaw’s spine. He shuddered. “Oh, okay, yes, that’s…”

“Good?” Greypaw offered.

“Amazing…” Firepaw finished swallowing his first bite, then immediately dug in. Firepaw had literally dreamt of this moment and it was actually better than any dream. The flavor was like nothing he had ever tasted. And like that, there was nothing left but bones. Firepaw swiped his tongue across jaws.

“Whoa,” said Greypaw. “You were hungry huh? That vole was there one moment and then gone the next.” He laughed.

Firepaw realized the other apprentice and anyone else in the clearing just saw him scarf down the prey like a vacuum. His ears turned hot. “Uh yeah…”

“C’mon, you must be exhausted,” said Greypaw. “I can show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

“Great.” Firepaw slowly got up and followed Greypaw to a large fallen tree trunk surrounded by ferns. The stump of the tree sat to the left.

“In here,” Greypaw inflected his chin to one end of the tree trunk. As soon as the two apprentices passed through the ferns Firepaw realized that the fallen trunk was hollow. It was almost entirely lined with moss and ferns. “This is the apprentice’s den,” said Greypaw. They were not alone. A small black cat that looked even younger than Firepaw and Greypaw raised his head.

“Oh hey Greypaw,” he said with a scratchy voice. He tilted his head when his deep purple gaze rested on Firepaw. “Um, wait, who’s that?”

“Right,” Greypaw said. “Firepaw, this is Ravenpaw.”

“I… what? Where did he come from?” Ravenpaw asked, bewildered.

“Er, were you not at the meeting Bluestar called?” Greypaw asked.

“Oh Starclan I missed a meeting,” Ravenpaw said glumly, hanging his head. “I was in here, sleeping.”

“Oh wait now I remember! You were with Tigerclaw and Redtail on the sunhigh patrol!” Greypaw said. 

“Yeah… basically passed out when I got back to my nest,” Ravenpaw said.

“Typical training session beforehand?”

“Mhm,” Ravenpaw rested his head between his paws. “Tigerclaw worked me extra hard today. And then the patrol…”

“Oh he’s just pushing you ‘cause he cares,” said Greypaw. “You know he’s hard like that.”

Ravenpaw only grunted.

“Well anyway, Firepaw used to be a kittypet,” Greypaw continued.

Ravenpaw’s head shot back up. “He _what_?”

“Yeah, we actually met yesterday in the forest.”

“And you attacked me,” Firepaw added.

“And I attacked him!” Greypaw agreed.

“S-so, he’s in Thunderclan now?” Ravenpaw asked uncertainly.

“Yeah,” said Firepaw. “Just joined today.”

“Oh,” was all Ravenpaw said. “Well, welcome I guess.” The apprentice’s response was not hostile or aggressive in the slightest. It was more a bewildered one than anything else.

“Hey so I figured you can come sleep by me,” Greypaw said to Firepaw. He flicked his tail at a patch of moss further down. “Right between Ravenpaw and me. That okay Ravenpaw?”

The other apprentice had lowered his muzzle between his paws once more and grunted again.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Greypaw nodded to Firepaw and padded over to the patch of moss. He laid down and patted the greenery next to him. “Here ya go.”

Firepaw nodded and his paws felt heavier than they had ever felt before. He practically plopped all his weight at once as soon as he reached the nest. It was a lot softer than he was expecting.

“Oi, who’s that?” came a female voice from the den entrance. Firepaw glanced over and saw a pair of silhouettes outlined by the fading light from outside.  

“Weren’t you two at the meeting? It’s Firepaw!” Greypaw called.

“Oh,” another voice said. Male. “He’s… sleeping here.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a statement that sounded like a sobering realization.

The she-cat clicked her tongue as she entered the den. “Really? They’re going to have us sleep with a complete stranger in our den?”

“Oh come off it, Sandy. Firepaw is my friend!” said Greypaw.

“Don’t…” the she-cat apparently named ‘Sandy’ said in a threatening tone.

“That’s strange,” said Firepaw. “From what I’ve seen, the naming conventions for apprentices usually ended in ‘paw’ after some kind of noun or adjective. Sandy sounds like -whatchu call it- a ‘kittypet’?”

“IT’S _SANDPAW_ ,” the she-cat roared, making Ravenpaw jump up with his fur standing on end.

“Wha? What’s happening??” Ravenpaw demanded, his eyes half closed and his words slurred.

When the two new cats came further into the den, Firepaw could see that the angry she-cat had sand-colored fur and pale green eyes. Her companion was a stark contrast as he was dark brown with black stripes and had amber eyes. The latter looked at Firepaw dubiously.

Greypaw sighed. “Well great you two woke up Ravenpaw.” He rested his tail on Ravenpaw’s shoulder. “Relax just Sandpaw and Dustpaw, being disruptive as usual.”

“Don’t call me _Sandy then,_ ” Sandpaw argued.

Firepaw wanted to get up and introduce himself despite the less than hospitable reception, but his legs had finally given up and he was weighed to the spot. “Well I know you must already know who I am, but I guess I’d like to formally say hi,” he said. Sandpaw and her friend looked at one another than back to Firepaw.

“So, you’re _actually_ a kittypet,” the amber-eyed apprentice, Dustpaw, said. He barely hid his disgust.

The cat’s tone annoyed Firepaw, but he pushed that hot, prickly feeling down and kept his voice even. “ _Was_ a kittypet, yes. I’m a warrior now, er, apprentice.”

“Tch,” Sandpaw flicked his ears. “Like dung you are. In name only.”

“Oi, if you mousebrains forgot, _Bluestar_ herself brought Firepaw in. You saw!” said Greypaw. “He fought Longtail and _won_!”

“’Cause he fought dirty,” Dustpaw argued.

“Literally,” Firepaw chimed in.

The two apprentices froze and stared at Firepaw.

“What?” growled Dustpaw.

“I _literally_ fought dirty. ‘Cause y’know, I threw dirt in his face,” Firepaw explained. “Well technically not _dirt_ , it was sand but –.”

“The point is you _cheated_ ,” Dustpaw interjected. “That isn’t the proper way to fight. Not like a warrior. More like some – like some dirty _rogue_!”

Firepaw bit back a sharp retort. He had been bullied before. When he was growing up with his parents and his littermates, he was picked on by other cats his age because he was scrawny and small. Though he couldn’t really remember the events in detail, the feeling was familiar. He felt hot and tense, which mixed uncomfortably with his exhaustion.

“How’s he ‘spouse to know, even?” said Greypaw. “He hasn’t gotten the same training as we have.”

“Probably because he spent most of his soft comfortable life either eating or sleeping,” Sandpaw said this while looking at Firepaw accusingly.

Firepaw was honestly tired of this pointless conversation. Just tired in general, really. Admittedly the two apprentices were getting under his skin, but Firepaw knew he belonged here. It was a powerful tug on his heart that kept him rooted to this clan. What Sandpaw said was true. Firepaw _did_ spend his life in a comfortable bubble without adversity. His schedule revolved around his housefolk feeding him with long, peaceful naps in between or the occasional cuddle. Firepaw was more than willing to do the work. He had to show Bluestar, and Lionheart, and Whitestorm, and all the clan that him being here was no mistake.

He put his tail on Greypaw’ shoulder as the apprentice was ready to throw out another comeback. “It’s okay, Greypaw,” said Firepaw. He looked to Sandpaw and Dustpaw. “This is a _really_ interesting conversation, but I’m tired so…” he nodded to them and laid his head down, facing away from the apprentices. He heard Sandpaw huff and the rustling of ferns. Them two were also settling down. _How late was it?_ Firepaw closed his eyes as Greypaw got comfortable again, and the young ginger tom fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

 

“Firepaw, get up!” Firepaw immediately recognized Greypaw’s voice and his head shot up.

“What? What’s going on?” he asked, bleary eyed.

“Um, it’s sunrise?” said Greypaw as if he were stating the obvious.

Firepaw blinked hard as the sunlight that came through the cracks in the den hit his eyes. “Yeah I can see that.”

“Well Lionheart and Whitestorm wanna see _you._ ” said Greypaw. “C’mon lazy bones – up!”

Firepaw got up unsteadily, his legs still slightly sore from yesterday. The cobwebs around his neck were also coming off. “Uh,” Firepaw placed a paw on his throat.

            “Oh hey don’t worry none,” said Greypaw. “They’re meant to come off. If it’s still bleedin’ make sure you go to Spottedleaf to wrap it up again.”

When Greypaw said the name of the tortoiseshell Medicine cat, Firepaw felt a strange fluttering in his chest. He didn’t like it. “Right, better not keep ‘em waiting then,” said Firepaw. The two apprentices padded out the den into the morning sun. Despite it being Autumn, it was unusually warm. Both Whitestorm and Lionheart sat across the clearing just past the fresh kill pile. Lionheart caught sight of them and beckoned the apprentices over with a nod.

“Morning, you two,” he greeted.

“You rest up well?” Whitestorm asked Firepaw.

Firepaw nodded with a yawn. “Yeah, ready to go!”

“Since Bluestar is a bit tied up at the moment, Redtail recommended that I and Whitestorm temporarily mentor you until you receive a proper one,” Lionheart said.  ‘Today, we’re doing combat training.”

“ _Yessss_ ,” Greypaw quietly cheered.

“You definitely have potential,” Whitestorm commented. “Seeing how you handled me _and_ Longtail in the same day. Although, this time round I won’t be going easy on you,” Whitestorm said with a wink.

Firepaw’s thoughts flashed back to that day in the forest where Whitestorm batted him around like a toy with impossible speed.  “ _That_ was you going easy?” Firepaw smirked.

Whitestorm’s whiskers twitched in amusement.

“Training hollow is this way,” said Lionheart. He started off in the direction of the gorse tunnel and the other three followed close behind. Once again Firepaw found himself walking through the forest, this time the path was somewhat familiar. Eventually they reached a great oak tree with a gaping hole at the base of its trunk. One by one the cats filed in and Firepaw felt sand under his paws

“Oh no, not _him_!”

Firepaw’s heart sank as he saw that the two annoying apprentices from yesterday on the other side of the hollow. It appeared it was Sandpaw who had spoken with the way she tunred her head as he, Greypaw, and the other two warriors entered the hollow. Behind them were Tigerclaw and Redtail. The latter’s eyes sparkled as he noticed Firepaw and he bounded over.

“Well good morning!” Redtail greeted Firepaw with a friendly lick on the shoulder. “Thank you for joining us!”

“Sorry, did I keep you all waiting?” asked Firepaw, slightly embarrassed. Dustpaw and Sandpaw snickered.

“Not at all,” Tigerclaw rumbled. “Let’s get started, shall we?” He paced over to the wall of the hollow and sat down. Redtail trotted over and joined him.

“Dustpaw,” said Redtail. “I would like you and Firepaw to pair up first. Then Greypaw and Sandpaw next.” Firepaw saw Dustpaw wrinkle his nose but said nothing. He padded to the center of the hollow and Firepaw followed suit, while the other two apprentices watched from the opposite wall. Redtail looked to Whitestorm and Lionheart. “Whenever you’re ready.” They nodded. “Dustpaw!” Redtail called. “Run through strings One, Two, and Four! In whatever order you like!”

“Right!” said Dustpaw.

“W-wait,” Firepaw stuttered. “Strings One, Two and whatnow? What?”

“Get ready!” Whitestorm yowled.

Now shaking, Firepaw whipped around to face the white warrior. “Ready?”

“He’s going to come at you Firepaw,” said Lionheart. “Do whatever comes naturally and we’ll take it from there!”

“We’re fighting right now?!” Firepaw looked back to Dustpaw.

“Prepare yourself, kittypet!” Dustpaw hissed and launched himself forward, front claws extended.

“Oh piss,” Firepaw leapt back, but not far back enough. The other apprentice’s claws raked down Firepaw’s forelegs.

“Watch the claws, Dustpaw,” Redtail shouted.

“Sorry sir,” said Dustpaw as he swiped at Firepaw’s ears with his left paw. Firepaw wasn’t ready and the hit landed. He shook his head as he backed away. Regardless Firepaw got hit with another swipe, this time from Dustpaw’s right. Firepaw looked up in time to see both of Dustpaw’s paws coming down on his head, the blow forcing Firepaw to the ground.

“I know you can do better than that, kit!” he heard Whitestorm call.

“Nice execution!” Redtail cheered encouragingly.

Sandpaw scoffed. “It’s easy to pull off a full set of moves on a target that doesn’t move or fight back.”

 _She’s not wrong_ , thought Firepaw. He was letting Dustpaw whale on him. Dustpaw dashed to Firepaw’s right, then sent a forward kick with his back leg which made Dustpaw spin into a 180. It caught Firepaw in the chest and Dustpaw followed up with a backwards kick with his opposite leg, also another direct hit to Firepaw’s chest and up into his chin. It knocked the wind right out of him and Firepaw staggered back. Dustpaw bounced on his paws for half a second then bounded at Firepaw once before rising onto his hind legs. Dustpaw unleashed a flurry of downward swipes with his front paws. Firepaw desperately rose to meet the other apprentice blow for blow, but Dustpaw was just so much faster and stronger and he eventually forced Firepaw to the ground again.

“Alright, that’ll do,” Lionheart rumbled.

Dustpaw disengaged and stalked off a few paces then sat on his haunches with a blank expression, but the satisfied gleam in his eye was unmistakable. Both Lionheart and Whitestorm came over to Firepaw and the young apprentice’s ears burned with shame. He couldn’t meet their eyes, but caught Tigerclaw looking at him over the warriors’ shoulders. The look on Tigerclaw’s face was that of disappointment and only worked to increase Firepaw’s level of discomfort.

“So what happened?” Whitestorm asked in a low, matter-of-fact tone.

“What do you mean?” said Firepaw, forcing himself to make eye contact.

“That’s not the same kit that fought me in the forest yesterday,” said Whitestorm. “You were like a leaf in the wind, Firepaw.”

“Well to be fair, I thought you were a murderer and that I was fighting for my life.”

Whitestorm nodded. “I suppose that’s true, but still…”

“Longtail,” said Lionheart. “You held your own against him, and gave him a good tear in the ear to prove it.”

“He was distracted,” Firepaw shook his head. “Plus I didn’t exactly fight fair.”

“There isn’t really anything ‘fair’ in a fight,” said Lionheart with a twinkle in his eye.

Firepaw gave the warrior and incredulous look. “Are you telling me to fight dirty, Lionheart?”

The big golden warrior gave him a coy smile. “I’m telling you to do what comes naturally.”

Firepaw looked to Whitestorm and he only shrugged. Firepaw sighed. “Alright, I’ll try not to embarrass myself.”

“Good lad,” Whitestorm gave Firepaw an affectionate flick on the shoulder with his tail and, with a nod to each other, the two warriors returned to the sidelines.

“Ready?” Redtail asked the apprentices. Firepaw kept his eyes on Dustpaw and refused to look in the Warriors’ direction -especially Tigerclaw- but he nodded.  

“Ready,” Dustpaw confirmed, and looked to Redtail.

The warrior shook his head. “Freestyle it, Dustpaw.” Firepaw felt eyes on him and turned to meet Redtail’s gaze. Redtail gave him a knowing twitch of his whiskers but spoke to Dustpaw, still. “Give him everything,” he said with a mischievous glower.

“O-oh, got it,” said Dustpaw. The apprentices stared each other down as silence took the training hollow. Every muscle in Firepaw’s body tensed.

“Fight!” Redtail stamped his paw on the sandy ground.

Dustpaw bounded toward Firepaw, then rose on his hind legs once he was within range. This time Firepaw turned tail and ran away.

“Hey!” Dustpaw shouted after him indignantly. Firepaw looked back and observed Dustpaw falling back down on all fours and that’s when Firepaw turned sideways, skidding to a stop. Dustpaw had given chase and time seemed to slow for Firepaw.

He thought, _One: Dustpaw had given chase and now he was within the perfect range. Two: seeing how he was moving the same as he was before, Firepaw guessed Dustpaw would most likely attempt that move again. Three: if so…_

Firepaw guessed correctly and Dustpaw went up on his hind legs to then try and smash multiple strikes down on Firepaw’s head. Firepaw fell down on his side then rolled under Dustpaw. With his claws sheathed he kicked up at Dustpaw’s belly.

When Firepaw was a little kit he often got into fights. While he did try his best to be nice, other cats his age found his attitude to be disagreeable. Firepaw had a bad habit of believing himself to be right just about 100% of the time, and other cats found his way of speaking to be irritating as it reflected this belief. Firepaw was one for asking too many questions and acting as many would label to be a “know-it-all”. Thus, Firepaw learned how to fight. Not cleanly, mind you, but in a way that would allow him to ‘hit and run’. Firepaw, after delivering three strikes to Dustpaw’s stomach, scrabbled out from under the apprentice and ran around him. Dustpaw whipped around with a hiss.

“What in the world was tha-.” Dustpaw’s words were cut off by Firepaw kicking a pawful of sand into Dustpaw’s open mouth. The apprenticed sputtered and shook his head.

Firepaw couldn’t help but allow a grin to creep across his face. “I will now accept your unconditional surrender.”  


	5. this one is shorter cause i can't stop playing re2 lol

“You can't just do that!!” Dustpaw cried, still spitting sand.

“But I have,” Firepaw replied. “What’re you gonna do about it?” He saw to his right Tigerclaw has his head turned away from the other warriors and Firepaw realized the tom was stifling a laugh. A warm, fuzzy feeling found its way into Firepaw’s chest.

“Redtail!” Dustpaw whined indignantly.

The warrior’s whiskers twitched and he only gave a saucy shrug. “Alright, alright, that’ll do,” he said with a titter. “Firepaw that was very uh… unconventional.”

“Cheers,” Firepaw said.

“Right,” said Redtail, licking his paw and running it over his ear. “We saw what the new kit is made of, so why don’t we now run through some drills. We’ll start with basic moves for now and hopefully we’ll complete a string by this afternoon.”

“Getting dragged down to his level…” Sandpaw grumbled.

“Young lady, it’s called team building,” said Redtail. “Now shush and line up on the opposite end.”

“I’ve got sunhigh patrol,” Tigerclaw stretched his back. “I’ll have to jog off in a bit.”

“Sure thing,” said Redtail. He turned to Whitestorm and Lionheart expectantly.

“Free until tonight,” said Whitestorm.

“Going hunting with Mousefur, also at sunhigh,” Lionheart added.

Redtail nodded. “Fine,” he turned to Firepaw and the other apprentices who had all lined up as instructed. He noticed that Greypaw had strategically placed himself between Firepaw and the other two apprentices, Dustpaw and Sandpaw. Ravenpaw was on Firepaw’s opposite side. “Okay you lot, let’s begin with forward strikes. You’re gonna start with your dominant paw.”

 

 

It was getting late and every part of Firepaw was sore. He and the other apprentices did combat training with Redtail with Whitestorm and Lionheart chiming in every once in a while with a tip for their specific apprentices -- that being Greypaw, Firepaw, and Sandpaw. Tigerclaw, however, kept to himself until it was sunhigh. At which point both him and Lionheart said their goodbyes and left. Redtail and Whitestorm continued to run all five apprentice’s ragged all afternoon. As Firepaw and Greypaw numbly hobbled their way back to camp they chatted about the training.

“So you get it now, yeah?” Greypaw asked.

“I think so,” Firepaw replied. “Like each ‘string’ is a sequence of three or four moves.”

“That’s right! It’s either called a _string_ or a _set._ Like every string is a set , but not every set is a string, know what I mean.

Firepaw laughed. “Okay no, actually you lost me on that last part.”

“Eh, it’ll make sense when your training goes on,” Greypaw cracked his neck. “I’m too tired to even think right now. Need some lunch.”

Firepaw stomach complained once the word ‘lunch’ was uttered by his friend and Greypaw chuckled. “I wanna try something new,” said Firepaw.

“Oh yeah?” said Greypaw. “Well let’s see what the fresh kill piles’ got.”

The two made it through the gorse tunnel and into the clearing. Even though it was getting a tad darker, the camp was still quite busy. Tigerclaw and another cat were sitting and eating together while another group of cats sat outside the den next to what Firepaw heard Greypaw say at one point was the nursery.

“I’ve actually been meaning to ask,” Fire started. “What’s that den next to where they keep the kits?”

“Elder’s den,” Greypaw answered. “Y’know we all don’t stay young and beautiful forever. Although, I’d make for a pretty elder I think.”

Firepaw snorted. His first impression of clan life was somewhat violent, and while his heart leapt with a feeling he could only place as anticipation at the idea of seeing combat, the concept of living to see old age was somewhat comforting. Cats could live full lives that didn’t end in conflict. Firepaw saw himself at a ripe age, sitting with Greypaw outside the den, watching the newest generation of apprentices go through exactly what they did at that age. It felt silly to reminisce on times gone by in a future fantasy, but he took solace in it.

“Oh for sure, the prettiest,” Firepaw joked.

They stopped at the fresh kill pile and Firepaw caught Tigerclaw giving him a nod. He returned it. Greypaw put his tail up to Firepaw’s throat.

“Oh, actually, you may wanna go to Spottedleaf first, Firepaw. Your cobwebs are coming off and there’s still quite a scab there,” said Greypaw.

Firepaw’s stomach protested but he nodded in agreement. “Better safe than sorry. Thanks, mate.” He trotted off in the direction of the Medicine cat’s den. He glanced back and thought he saw Greypaw give him a weird look, but the other apprentice just quickly bent down and pulled something out of the pile. Firepaw shook it off. _It’s probably nothing._ Firepaw hesitated outside the ferns leading to the Medicine cat’s, unsure if he was just supposed to walk in. He decided to do just that, and as soon as he got through, Spottedleaf popped her head out of the big crack in the rock.

“Oh, hey you!” she said.

Something about the way she said that made Firepaw’s ears uncomfortably warm. “Hey, um, so I’m looking to, uh…”

“Cobwebs?” Spottedleaf offered.

“Yeah,” Firepaw said dumbly.

“You got it,” she chirped. “Follow me.” Spottedleaf disappeared and Firepaw followed her into the small cavern. There was something about the den that wasn’t cramped even though it should have been. It was comfy and had a smell that was strong, yet wholesome. Spottedleaf wound some cobwebs around her paw and hopped over to Firepaw. He noticed a dip in the rock self in the shape of a bowl and it was filled with different herbs and what looked like the pulp of berries.

“So what are you working on?” Firepaw asked.

Spottedleaf spat some sort of mixture onto her paw and gently rubbed it onto Firepaw’s wound. He wasn’t aware of how sore it still was until pressure was put on it. When Spottedleaf heard Firepaw’s question there was some kind of shine to her eyes that appeared, but by her expression she seemed to emotionally rein herself in. “Oh it’s just a little something, nothing really.”

“Looks pretty complicated,” Firepaw said.

“It,” Spottedleaf hesitated as she wrapped up Firepaw’s neck. “It is, yes.”

“What’s it for?”

Spottedleaf now physically paused and seemed to think for a beat. She gave Firepaw a somewhat cautious look. “It’s… well it’s for colds. When mucus irritates the inside of a cat’s skull – gives them headaches and makes their nose sore.”

“Oh, yuck,” Firepaw said with a smile. “How does it work?”

That had really done it. Spottedleaf continued to wrap Firepaw’s wound and began to speak very quickly as she did so. “It’s an infusion of honey, chamomile, and a type of fruit I think. Something I, um, borrowed from a twoleg garden.”

“You _think_ it’s a fruit?”

“I call it a Pucker,” she giggled. “Cause of how it makes your face pucker when you taste it. It’s sour.”

“Well whatever it is you’re making it sound delicious,” said Firepaw. He winced when she finished with the cobwebs. “Thanks.”

“No problem. That all?”

“Yeah, um, guess I’ll be getting back. Hope I get a cold so I can try that thing you’re making,” Firepaw joked.

Spottedleaf just gave the young cat a look and shook her head with a snort. “See you when I see you, little Firepaw.”

Firepaw emerged from the ferns back into the clearing. He stiffened when he spotted Longtail and another tom Firepaw recognized from yesterday when Tigerclaw’s patrol came in. He was a dark grey tabby tom with black stripes and haunting yellow eyes. The two of them stared down Firepaw as he walked past and he tried his best to ignore them.

“Got yourself another collar there, kittypet?” Longtail snickered.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion and the hunger that irritated Firepaw enough to snap back: “It’s to help my wound heal, which I doubt yours will.”

Firepaw saw Longtail’s hackles rise and gowl came deep from with his throat, but his companion put his tail on Longtail’s shoulder and shook his head. Longtail laid back down and bit viciously into his meal without taking his eyes off of Firepaw. The dark tom remained silent. Firepaw continued on and sat down next to Greypaw, who was actually almost finished with his food.

“Sorry, couldn’t wait,” he said sheepishly.

“No worries,” said Firepaw as he picked out a piece of prey of his own. It was a mouse. Firepaw mentally prepared himself and took the first bite. It was little less rich than the vole – more grainy. The meat was tender, but very little substance to it. It wasn’t as savory and reminded him of the bits the housefolk put in his bowl back home. Firepaw found himself accidentally chipping off parts of the creature’s very brittle bones with his teeth, which he gently spat out.

Greypaw laughed. “Yeah, happened to me when I first ate mouse to be honest. Crumbly little things. How’s it taste?”

“Okay,” Firepaw answered simply, taking another bite.

“Oh, just ‘okay’, well excuse me I had no idea we had a cat with such refined taste around here,” Greypaw teased.

Firepaw was starving and finished the mouse in a few bites. “Sod off,” he responded with a playful flick of his tail off Greypaw’s nose. Firepaw still felt quite hungry, but guessed in this type of environment there was no such thing as second servings. “I dunno’bout you, but I’m about to crash,” Firepaw said, yawning.

“Same here, yeah,” said Greypaw. “Shall we?” Firepaw nodded and the two headed off to the apprentice’s den.

“Oh Firepaw, could I have second?” came a familiar rumbling voice. The boys turned as Lionheart padded over to them.

“What’s up, Lionheart?” asked Firepaw.

“Tomorrow, Whitestorm and I wanted to take you hunting. There’s a possibility Tigerclaw and Ravenpaw might join us, but Tigerclaw said his schedule is ‘up in the air’.” Lionheart rolled his eyes. “And he says he wants to be Deputy someday. Not with _his_ organization skills,” he muttered almost to himself. “Anyway, I’d like to see you both by the gorse tunnel at sunrise. Understood?”

“Yessir!” Greypaw said.

Lionheart nodded. “Good, see you then.”

The cats parted.

On their way to the den, Firepaw and Greypaw were joined by a very exhausted-looking Ravenpaw.

“Hey!” greeted Greypaw.

“Hnngrrm,” replied Ravenpaw, his eyes barely open. The three entered the den and settled down for the night. Firepaw thought he heard Greypaw trying to say something to him but the heavy tendrils of sleep dragged him into unconsciousness.


	6. Wow this took too long

Firepaw found himself in the forest, but the ground was layered with a thick fog. The young cat couldn’t even see his own paws. When he looked back up he jumped in fright. There was a figure before him – a shadowy, featureless cat. It made a garbled noise, like it was trying to speak. It was like a meow coming from underwater.

“I- I can’t…” Firepaw stuttered. “Hello?”

Another garbled meow, but it sounded clearer this time. Firepaw could only then make out one word.

The whole world seemed to suddenly swallow him up as Firepaw fell back into a moment of blackness. He woke with a spasm and he felt Greypaw start beside him.

“Oi, watch it,” he grumbled.

“Sorry,” Firepaw whispered. He tried closing his eyes to go back to sleep, but couldn’t. The visions of that dream, and that cat, kept him from unconsciousness. Firepaw slowly got up and gingerly stepped around his sleeping clanmates.

Greypaw raised his head, bleary eyed. “Firepaw?”

“Shut up, mousebrain,” Sandpaw growled from somewhere in the darkness.

Firepaw padded out of the den and was met with a rush of fresh, early morning air. He took a deep breath as he tried to push the aftertaste of the dream from his mind, but there was an intrusive thought that speared through Firepaw’s attempt: ‘What am I doing here?’ The thought itself actually startled him. He was here because he wanted to be, right? It’s everything he’s been dreaming of for months. Firepaw took a few more breaths as a slight anxiety rose in his throat and he looked up at the nearly full moon above.

“Can’t sleep?” came a low, gravelly voice beside him.

Firepaw jumped and looked down. He immediately felt embarrassment swathe around his body like an uncomfortably hot blanket. Tigerclaw. “Yes,” Firepaw said dumbly.

Tigerclaw nodded. “Yeah, same here.”

“How come?” The question was out of Firepaw’s mouth before he could stop himself.

“Bad dreams,” Tigerclaw murmured with a flick of his ear. “How ‘bout you?”

“Uh, me too.”

“That’s no surprise,” Tigerclaw said. “You’ve been very busy these past few days.”

“Oh that’s right… I’ve only really been here two days,” the realization made Firepaw’s heart lurch.

“So what do you think?” Tigerclaw asked him. “Of clan life so far, I mean? You think you made the right choice?”

“Getting a little heavy with the questions this early in the morning, hey?” Firepaw joked.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what you do,” said Tigerclaw. “Kittypet or no, I respect any cat with ambition. I believe that’s why you’re here. Am I wrong?”

Firepaw shook his head. “There’s definitely something that… I know I can be more than what I am now,” Firepaw said, staring ahead into the darkness of the tree line. A feeling that was almost like nostalgia washed against the back of his eyes. Like he was back on the garden fence. “I’m willing to work hard,” said Firepaw. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but Tigerclaw grunted in approval. Firepaw turned his head to meet the amber gaze of the broad-shouldered warrior. An excited feeling rushed up his neck and warmed the apprentice’s cheeks. “It’s because I’m not clanborn that I’m willing to work three times harder than everyone else.”

“We’re going hunting today,” said Tigerclaw with a satisfied smile on his face. “I was going to ask if you were prepared, but now that seems like a silly question.” The sun had begun to rise and its first rays over the treetops made Firepaw squint.

Firepaw yawned. “Too late to catch a nap?”

“I wouldn’t,” Tigerclaw answered. He arched his muscular back in a stretch, making his stripes lengthen on his pelt. “Once you do, your body will never forgive you for dragging it out of bed again. I’d stay on your paws once you’re already up.” He paused. “Hey, why don’t we run through some basic stretches? I think it’ll help.”

“Yeah? Okay, let’s do it!” Firepaw sprung to his feet.

Tigerclaw flashed him a grin. “Alright, first we’re going to arch our backs downward…”

 

* * *

 

 

 Greypaw padded out of the apprentice’s den with Ravenpaw. Greypaw stopped himself mid-yawn and choked as he saw Firepaw and Tigerclaw, side by side, going through basic hunting exercises.

“We’ll work on that pounce, but I think you’re picking it up!” commented Tigerclaw.

“You think so?” Firepaw said, turning to the sound of Greypaw’s dry heaving. Firepaw lit up as he saw Greypaw and Ravenpaw and bounded over to them. “Hey you two!” Firepaw greeted them with a purr. He felt loose and energized -- now anxious to get going.

“Good morning,” said Greypaw, finally able to let out a proper yawn.

“Were you training with Tigerclaw all morning?” asked Ravenpaw.

“Yeah! Tigerclaw was helping me get ready for hunting today,” Firepaw replied.

“Oh,” said Ravenpaw. Something Firepaw couldn’t quite recognize flashed across the other apprentice’s face.

“Good, you’re all here.” Firepaw looked to see Lionheart padding up to them with Whitestorm not far behind as he emerged from the warrior’s den.

Whitestorm yawned. “I hope you apprentice’s appreciate that we’re waking up even before the dawn patrol to take you out.”

“Yes, I imagine we’re just gonna miss the overnight patrol on their way back,” said Tigerclaw.

“Right, let’s get a move on,” said Lionheart, already on his way over to the gorse tunnel. As the group headed out Greypaw leaned over and whispered to Firepaw: “Y’think the prey is even awake right now?”

Firepaw snickered and felt his excitement manifest itself as an acute tingling in his paws. He also felt strangely nostalgic. He realized that was because he was basically about to live out his dream; catching his own prey in the forest. Lionheart’s voice interrupted Firepaw’s thoughts.

“So we’re going to split up into three teams of two. Whitestorm’ll be with the new kit, while Tigerclaw and I will be with our respective apprentices.” Firepaw looked to Whitestorm who gave him a wink. “I think Greypaw and I will take the area near the Sycamore,” Lionheart continued. “While Tigerclaw and Ravenpaw hit the Tallpines. Firepaw, Whitestorm – why don’t you take the area near the Owl Tree. Just remember -.”

“Stay clear of Sunningrocks,” Whitestorm finished. “You don’t have to tell me twice. Not in the mood for getting in a skirmish with a Riverclan patrol.”

Lionheart nodded. “That sound good to all of you?”

“No objections here,” Tigerclaw said, washing an ear.

“Excellent.” Lionheart addressed the apprentices. “Now, we’re going to treat this as a small assessment. Firepaw came at a good time because we haven’t tested you two in a while.” Lionheart flicked his gaze between both Greypaw and Ravenpaw. “Let’s give it until just before Sunhigh. Then we’ll meet back at the gorse tunnel.”

Tigerclaw nodded.

“Got it,” Whitestorm said.

“See you then,” Lionheart dipped his head, and he and Greypaw set off.

“Tallpines… going to be lots of birds,” Tigerclaw commented to Ravenpaw. “You up for it?”

“Yes, sir,” Ravenpaw replied stiffly and the both of them headed to Firepaw’s right towards his housefolk’s neighborhood.

The realization made something tighten in Firepaw’s chest. His housefolk… they must have been so worried about him, but how would Firepaw even start to explain where he went or what he was doing. Language barrier aside, he doubted they would even grasp the concept. They were so nice to him and Firepaw’s life was so ridiculously comfortable. But this -right here, right now- was the dream. He shook the invasive thoughts from his head and followed Whitestorm as he headed in the opposite direction of Ravenpaw and Tigerclaw. Firepaw was no longer just sitting on the garden fence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah not a very beefy chapter, sorry. Just some cool bonding with Firepaw's three dads.


	7. Gangsta's Paradise

“Sooo, the ‘Owl Tree’. Is it named that for the obvious reason I’m thinking of, or?” Firepaw and Whitestorm had stopped near a clearing where a great oak tree had its big gnarled roots grip the earth, and the top branches scraped the sky.

Whitestorm chuckled. “Yeah, basically.”

“Ah.”

“Although we think the Owl is either dead or gone. There’s been no sign of them for moons. _Anyway_ —Firepaw, let’s catch us some prey! I understand Tigerclaw ran through some basic stuff with you this morning, yeah? We’ll start past here,” Whitestorm flicked his tail in the general direction beyond the Owl Tree. “Should be some mice and squirrels -- with the owl gone they’ve no doubt gotten a bit fatter and lazier.”

“Ah, perfect for my snail-paced reaction time,” Firepaw joked.

Whitestorm chuckled. “Says the kit that gave me this lovely scrape across my nose. Now I want you to breathe in.”

“Oh just, inhale?” said Firepaw.

“With your nose, yes. Smell the air. Let me know that you smell.”

Firepaw sniffed the air. “Uh, pine trees.”

Whitestorm playfully nudged Firepaw’s side with his paw. “Close your eyes. I want you split the scent you smell into parts. Try and see how many you can find hidden within.”

“Split the scent I smell into parts,” Firepaw mumbled and closed his eyes. As expected, pine was the predominant scent. Firepaw attempted to “look” past it to see if he could identify more specific smells hidden underneath the blanket of pine needles. “I think I have something,” he said finally.

“Yeah?”

It was a familiar smell. One Firepaw had smelled just the other day. “Mouse,” he said.

“Can you tell where?” Whitestorm asked.

“I think…” Firepaw closed his eyes again. “Somewhere behind the tree. The Owl Tree. But it’s faint, is that normal?”

“If it’s stale, yes. You’ll be able to tell the difference eventually, but, I think you’re right. It may be just beyond there.” Whitestorm tilted his head. “Wanna find out?”  
            “Okay!” Firepaw said.

“Alright, then go check it out. I’ll be right here. I would like to see how you do on your own first.”

Firepaw nodded and tried his best to stealthily make his way over to the base of the large tree. There was no doubt that he might have looked a bit silly given the very barebones training he had received, but Firepaw held little self-consciousness in how amateurish his technique was. After all, you only learn something by doing it, even if that means looking ridiculous. Firepaw skirted around the edges of the great roots of the tree in the direction he thought the scent of the mouse was coming from. There was a bit of foliage obscuring his vision, but the closer he got, the stronger the smell became. He had to pause and close his eyes every so often in order to find the scent again, and he used said pauses to correct his hunting crouch as well.

            Eventually Firepaw was so close he could practically taste the small animal. There it was, crouching and sniffing around in the fallen leaves. Firepaw didn’t dare get any closer in fear of scaring it off. This was it. He bunched up the muscles in his hind legs to prepare himself to pounce, and that’s when his vision exploded with a mixture of orange, yellow, red, and an overwhelming dark grey. Firepaw was so startled that he leapt back and scrabbled on the ground. In front of him was a large, thick-furred, dark grey cat with sickly yellow eyes, and she was tearing into the mouse Firepaw was just hunting.

            “Hey!” Firepaw shouted indignantly. “What’s your problem?!”

            The cat looked up at him, swiping her tongue across her jaws. “My problem is that I haven’t eaten in two days,” she said in a raspy, older sounding voice. “What’s _your_ problem?”

            “My prob-,” Firepaw flicked his tail in exasperation. “You stole my mouse!”

            “ _Your_ mouse? What, did you mark it or something? Sure doesn’t taste like it,” the old she-cat bent down and took another bite.

            “Stop eating it!”

            “As soon as I’m done with this, you’re next, kit,” she said with her mouth full.

            “E-excuse me?”

            The she-cat looked up again. “Yeah. I’ll eat you,” she said with a wide grin, blood all over her mouth. She quickly dropped the smile and continued eating.

            ‘I need an adult,’ Firepaw thought. “Uuuuh…” Another cat brushed against Firepaw, making him jump.

            “Shadowclan,” Whitestorm hissed. “I know you. You’re Yellowfang, aren’t you? Shadowclan’s medicine cat.”

            When the she-cat, Yellowfang, said she hadn’t eaten in two days, she wasn’t kidding. The mouse was now a pile of bones. “Yes, that would be me.”

            “What brings you on Thunderclan territory? Hunting on it no less.”

            Yellowfang licked her chops. “Well for food, obviously. That’s what hunting is for.”

            “Get off our territory, or we’ll chase you out.” Whitestorm said coldly.

            Yellowfang yawned and lay down, tucking her paws under her. “I’d rather not do any more walking. I’m going to be taking a nap right here for a bit, and then I’ll soon be out of your fur.”

            “I really don’t want to fight a medicine cat,” Whitestorm growled. “But regardless of who you are, no cat can just come and go as they please. Go back to Shadowclan territory. This is your last warning.” The only other time Firepaw saw Whitestorm act this nasty was when they fought. But even then that was all an act, and this was no act. The normally serene, lighthearted Whitestorm was threatening an elderly cat just because she was from another territory.

            “Hold on,” Firepaw said. “Whitestorm, I’d like to ask her a question.”

            The warrior looked at him quizzically. “She doesn’t seem to be in a talkative mood, Firepaw.”

            “I know, but just…” he turned to Yellowfang. “Miss, when you say you’ll be ‘out of our fur’ do you mean you’ll be going back to Shadowclan or are you leaving to go someplace else?”

The old cat’s whiskers twitched. “Mmm, yeah, someplace else. Anywhere but the forest.”

“Why is that?” asked Firepaw.

“Quit it, you’re being nosy.”

“Yellowfang…” said Whitestorm in a warning tone, his claws unsheathing.

“Oh stop it, you won’t,” Yellowfang said. She sighed. “Fine, if you’re so bloody dead-set on not leaving me be, then take me as a prisoner or something.”

Whitestorm blinked a few times. “Take you… prisoner?”

“Yes,” Yellowfang rolled her eyes. “Prisoner: an individual captured and kept confined by an enemy, opponent, or criminal. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.”

Whitestorm sighed. “Firepaw? Do you know your way back to camp?”

“Um, I think so,” Firepaw replied. He looked at the old she-cat laying down. She was looking off in the distance somewhere, seemingly not paying any attention.

“Right, I’d like you to go and tell either Bluestar or Redtail about this. I want to get their opinion.”

“Shouldn’t be sending an injured apprentice alone by himself,” grumbled Yellowfang.

“Excuse me?” said Whitestorm.

“He’s got cobwebs around his neck. They look just about a day old. Regardless, you’re a fully healthy and capable warrior. Why don’t you go?”

“Oh so you can escape?” Whitestorm shook his head. “Nice try. Firepaw?”

“Why would I want to escape?” Yellowfang interjected. “I’m actually quite tired,” Yellowfang stretched out her legs. “Resting in a camp sounds better than in the woods.”

“Why don’t we just bring her to camp now, Whitestorm?” Firepaw asked.

“There is no way I’m bringing a cat from another clan into our camp without Bluestar’s say-so.” Whitestorm said. “All the clan’s camps are unknown to each other. Medicine cat or no, she could be a spy. I wouldn’t put it past Shadowclan.”

Firepaw weighed the options. On one paw, he could go back to camp based on his very vague memory of the forest layout so far. Or, he could stay put. He looked to the old cat. Even though she was stretched out and relaxed-looking, her breathing was unnaturally heavy. Under all that fur, he could see her side rising and falling at an increased rate. She looked like she had run for her life. There was also blood on her fur -- right around the area between the neck and shoulders.

“Whitestorm,” said Firepaw. “I’ll watch her. It’s like she said, I don’t think she’s going anywhere. She has an injury.”

The warrior looked at him, then to Yellowfang, then back to Firepaw. “Yeah… she also looks half starved.” He hesitated.  “Are you sure, kit?”

“Positive.”

Whitestorm paused, thinking. He let out an exhale from his nose. “Fine. I’ll be gone for only a moment. Don’t make me regret this.” And with that, the white warrior disappeared into the underbrush.

“Sharp eyes, kit,” said Yellowfang. She adjusted herself into a more comfortable position. “Do me a favor – you see those leaves there?” She flicked her tail at a cluster of green leaves under a nearby tree.

“Um, okay? What for?” Firepaw asked as he walked over to the plant. “How many?”

“Just a few,” Yellowfang answered. “And those dock leaves would be for the nice little bite in my neck here.”

Firepaw placed the leaves next to the old cat. “Dock?”

“Used to treat wounds, though, I would have preferred horsetail, but I don’t think it grows around here,” said Yellowfang. She looked around. Those leaves too, by your paws.

Firepaw tilted his head. “Just… the leaves on the ground?”

“The oak leaves, yes. Put them on top of the dock.”

As soon as Firepaw placed the leaves on top of the others, Yellowfang bent her head down and began to chew them up. After a few moments she began lapping at her wound with her tongue. Firepaw saw that she was spreading a thick poultice around the bloody area.

“What’s the whole mixture for?” Firepaw asked.

“The oak leaves are for preventing infection,” Yellowfang answered simply. She looked even more tired than she did before, as if the action of applying the herbs was incredibly strenuous.

“So… who or what gave you that bite?” Firepaw said.

“You interrogating me or something?” Yellowfang rasped.

“Just asking some basic questions,” said Firepaw. “Making conversation.”

Yellowfang snorted. “Making conversation…” she shook her head. “I think I’ll save that answer for Bluestar, but I guess I’ll say this: stay away from Shadowclan.”

“Huh?”

“I say this to you because you seem a little green around the ears. Consider this a proper warning, uh…”

“Firepaw.”

“Firepaw,” said Yellowfang. “That’s where I got this bite. Would have got a whole lot more than that if I stuck around for longer than I did.”

“Is Shadowclan, like, evil or something?” Firepaw asked.

“No,” said Yellowfang. “Not really…”

Firepaw was about to open his mouth to ask something else, but was interrupted by the rustled of underbrush behind him. He let his fur lay flat as he recognized the scent of Whitestorm and Redtail. They emerged a moment later.

“My, my,” remarked Redtail. “Darling, you seem to be in a bit of a state.”

            “No… not you,” Yellowfang growled. She shut her eyes and buried her nose into her chest. “Out of all the cats…”

            “Always a pleasure, Yellowfang,” Redtail said sardonically, dipping his head.

            Whitestorm and Firepaw shared a look of confusion.

            “Alright old girl, up you come,” said Redtail as he lightly skipped over to her.

            “Don’t push me, Redtail.” Yellowfang said in a warning tone. She began to slowly rise to her paws.

            “Do you … know each other?” Firepaw asked.

            “Know and despise,” Yellowfang answered with venom.

            “Although ‘despise’ is a _very_ harsh word for it,” said Redtail. “We have disagreeable personalities.”

            “I’m not getting into this,” Yellowfang said through clenched teeth, and had already started walking in the direction Redtail and Whitestorm came from. “Just take me to your _stupid_ camp to be your _stupid_ prisoner already.”

            Redtail nodded to Whitestorm and Firepaw with a serious look, and then a moment later turned back to Yellowfang with a sly smile on his face. He caught up to match her pace, trotting next to her.

            Firepaw turned to the other warrior. “Whitestorm?”

            “I have no idea,” Whitestorm answered as he started to walk. Baffled, Firepaw followed him.


	8. Oye Como va

“ _I WILL KILL YOU!”_

            A voice echoed outside the camp, making every cat in the clearing nearly jump out of their fur. Bluestar’s attention snapped to the gorse tunnel as she heard approaching pawsteps. Whitestorm had informed her of the situation and as soon as Bluestar heard the old medicine cat’s yowl she rolled her eyes. It was an unconscious action. The Thunderclan leader started walking towards the tunnel as the loud complaints got even louder.

The first to emerge was Redtail, closely followed by Yellowfang. The two cats made quite the pair with Redtail smiling and seemed to be holding in a laugh while Yellowfang looked downright murderous. The next ones out were the three apprentices, Raven, Grey, and Firepaw with Tigerclaw and Lionheart behind them. Ravenpaw appeared to have something in his jaws. A snake. Bluestar wondered to herself if the apprentice had caught it himself.

            “Redtail, thank you,” Bluestar said curtly.

            “It was a pleasure,” Redtail dipped his head, shooting a smirk in Yellowfang’s direction.

            “I’m sure.” Bluestar looked to the old medicine cat. “You and I need to have a discussion, right?”

            “I suppose,” Yellowfang grumbled.

            “Right. Let’s take care of the wound on your neck then,” Bluestar jerked her chin in the direction of Spottedleaf’s den. Yellowfang said nothing and padded past the Thunderclan leader. Bluestar glanced back at Lionheart for a moment, and with the flick of her tail, the warrior joined the other two cats .

            “Whew, that was stressful,” Redtail laughed. Redtail began walking off in the direction of the warrior’s den. “Okay lads, I’m off to do some Deputy-ing and whatever!”

            “That’s not a word,” Tigerclaw called after him. “And you can just say, ‘nap’ Redtail!” Redtail laughed again as he disappeared into the den. Firepaw thought he had a nice laugh.

            “Okay, you all drop your prey into the fresh kill pile,” said Whitestorm. “After all that excitement let’s take a break, then Firepaw, meet me in in the training hollow at sunhigh.”

            “Will do Whitestorm!” said Firepaw. Whitestorm nodded. He and Tigerclaw broke off and headed in the direction of the fresh kill pile.

            “Oh, oops, sorry Ravenpaw! Your snake!” Greypaw dropped the mouse he was carrying.

            Ravenpaw put the yellowish snake with a black pattern down its long body on the ground. “Yeah, my snake. Pretty neat, right?”

            “That’s an adder!” Greypaw exclaimed.

            Ravenpaw shifted uncomfortably. “Wrong timing I guess; with taking a Shadowclan cat prisoner and all. Feels a little insignificant in comparison. At least Tigerclaw saw.”

            “And what did he think?” Firepaw asked. In the short time Firepaw knew him; he had never seen Ravenpaw smile, but this time small, black-furred apprentice looked genuinely pleased with himself.

            “He said it was very impressive,” Ravenpaw said, almost shyly. “He said any warrior that can take on a venomous snake is one to be reckoned with.”

            “That’s great Ravenpaw!” said Greypaw.

            “You say that almost like he doesn’t compliment you very often,” Firepaw pointed out.

            Ravenpaw slightly squirmed. “Well, no, but, like, he…” he hesitated. “Tigerclaw is just a tough mentor. He’s hard to impress.”

            Greypaw nodded in agreement. “It’s true! He hardly compliments anybody, let alone his own apprentice. The guy has high standards, but that’s expected I guess. He was also trained by a super tough warrior.”

            “Oh yeah?” Firepaw looked over his shoulder at Tigerclaw who was digging into some type of bird next to some other warriors at the fresh kill pile. Firepaw didn’t really get that kind of impression from him. Sure, Tigerclaw was an imposing figure and all, but he has been nothing but kind to Firepaw since he got here -- even though he was a kittypet. Then again, maybe he was helping ease Firepaw into clan life before he got tough on him. That seemed fair to Firepaw if that were the case.

            “I think its super cool, Ravenpaw,” said Firepaw.

            Ravenpaw gave him a quizzical look. “I, yeah, I guess? It’s a little chilly right now.”

            “No, the snake,” Firepaw explained.

            “Well yeah, they’re cold-blooded,” Greypaw said with a grin.

            “Are you taking the piss right now?” said Firepaw.

            “I… don’t need to use the dirtplace, no…” Greypaw blinked. “Firepaw, you alright?”

            Firepaw shook his head. “Nevermind. What I mean is I think it _is_ very impressive you caught that adder, Ravenpaw.”

            The other apprentice looked down and shuffled his paws. “Thanks…”

            “Well what are we waiting for?!” said Greypaw. “We gonna eat this thing or not?”

            “Oh, uh, I dunno if we’re allowed to,” said Ravenpaw.

            Firepaw gave his fellow apprentice a quizzical look. “’Allowed to’?”

            “Uh, I mean it’s, like, against the Warrior Code for apprentices to eat before elders and queens,” Ravenpaw explained.

            “Oh yeah they probably haven’t taught you that yet, Firepaw,” Greypaw said. “I guess that makes sense. Your situation is kinda weird so you didn’t grow up with the Code.”

“Gotcha,” Firepaw murmured.

A code. That made sense to Firepaw. A clan of honorable warriors must live by a code of some kind, right? He thought of how similar the Thunderclan cats were to the housefolk in the box – the one his housefolk could turn on and off – particularly the scenario one of the younger ones would always watch. It was very violent, but it was about a group of warriors defending a great big house that had no roof and was full of smaller, regular-sized houses. It was like the neighborhood Firepaw used to live in, but the warriors had helped all the other housefolk escape before the evil housefolk arrived.

These warriors held long pieces of metal that acted like claws, cutting other housefolk and killing them. The way they bowed and spoke to their leader was similar to the clan cats, and they appeared to have a set of rules on how they treated each other, the housefolk that weren’t fighting, and their enemies.

“Jeez, your training is pretty disorganized,” Greypaw said sheepishly. “I hope you don’t think bad of us for that.”

Firepaw shook his head. “Of course not. Like you said, my situation _is_ unusual.”

“Hey Ravenpaw!” The apprentices looked to Whitestorm by the fresh kill pile. He motioned them to come over. “Show everyone your adder!”

The apprentices shared a look, then Ravenpaw grabbed the snake up in his jaws and the three went over to join the other warriors. Ravenpaw placed it down at his feet.

“What did I tell you?” Tigerclaw grinned.

The other warriors around was the she-cat, Mousefur that Firepaw recognized from his first day. She was the one yelling at Longtail. The other was one Firepaw didn’t recognize, however; he looked a little like Mousefur, but less muscular and more wiry and his fur was slightly lighter.

“Now that’s something,” said the unknown tom.

“Wouldn’t wanna eat it, though,” Mousefur grumbled.

“Would that be okay?” Ravenpaw asked, not particularly directing the question at anyone.

“Patchpelt has eaten one before, I think,” said Whitestorm. “Yeah he said it tasted like bird, but stretchy-er.

“Patchpelt has eaten a lot of things,” the light brown tom joked.

“When I was an apprentice, I swear I heard that he ate deathberries once and lived,” said Tigerclaw. He shook his head with a smile. “That cat is immortal…”

“Like bird, but stretchy-er…” Ravenpaw murmured.

Greypaw sidled up beside Ravenpaw. “Well there’s only one way to find out! On the count of three!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously dude I have no idea why AO3 won't format my stuff correctly lol


	9. I lived, bitch

“Oh…” said Greypaw, chewing.

“Yeah…” Ravenpaw agreed.

“Ah… it’s garbage…” said Firepaw.

“Oh?” Whitestorm sniffed the dead adder. “Well that’s disappointing. Sorry boys.”

“A bit anti-climactic,” Mousefur commented, tearing a piece of mouse.

“I guess the thrill was more in the catch,” Tigerclaw glanced at Ravenpaw with a small smile that made Ravenpaw squirm. “Go bury it somewhere outside the camp, Ravenpaw. I’ll hold this thrush for you.” Tigerclaw pawed a bird out of the fresh kill pile.

“Yes sir,” Ravenpaw gave the warrior a respectful dip of his head before picking the snake up. He trotted straight to the gorse tunnel, and Firepaw couldn’t help but smile at the noticeable spring in the shy apprentice’s step.

“So you’re the one who found Yellowfang, eh?” said Mousefur.

Firepaw looked back to the light brown warrior. “Uh, y-yeah that right.”

“We were hunting by the Owl Tree,” Whitestorm explained. “I found her chowing down on a mouse that was meant to be Firepaw’s catch. It was actually a, ah, bizarre interaction.”

“She threatened to eat me,” Firepaw said quietly as the other warriors gave him a range of disbelieving looks.

The warrior next to Mousefur snorted. “She what?” he laughed.

“That honestly doesn’t surprise me,” Tigerclaw rolled his eyes. “Whitestorm knows. We’ve probably interacted with her more times than anyone in the clan other than Bluestar or Spottedleaf.”

“And Redtail,” Whitestorm added. “But that one’s a long and frankly tedious story.” Firepaw gave him a quizzical look and Whitestorm only smiled with sharp exhale from his nose. “He just annoys her. Redtail has the knack for those sorts of things.”

“So any clue what’s she’s doing out here?” asked the unknown warrior.

“Probably just to terrorize apprentices for fun, Runningwind,” Mousefur grumbled. “Who cares, though? Just as long as she buzzes off soon.”

“As much of a nightmare as she was for us when we were kits, I don’t think she’d come into our territory for such a petty reason,” Tigerclaw chided.

“She mentioned that she had to get out of Shadowclan for whatever reason,” Firepaw said. “She said she refused to go back – that she couldn’t.”

Tigerclaw’s eyes widened with interest. “What could possibly spook a cat like Yellowfang so much that she refused to go home?”

Whitestorm shook his head. “No point in speculating. I’m sure Bluestar will tell us once she’s done speaking with her.”

“I mean we could speculate a _litte_ ,” the light brown tom - whose name Firepaw now knew to be Runningwind – joked.

“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, Greypaw,” Mousefur pointed out dryly. She had finished up her meal and was swiping her tongue across her jaws.

“Feeling thoughtful, I guess,” Greypaw said with a smirk. He laughed. “Dunno. Just… dunno what to think about the whole situation -- seems complicated.”

Ravenpaw returned and settled down between Firepaw and Tigerclaw. “Hi,” he greeted. Tigerclaw rolled the thrush over to his apprentice and Ravenpaw thanked him.

“Well,” Whitestorm stood up and stretched, also done eating. “Firepaw, Greypaw, get some rest when you can. Training later today, right?”

“Yes, Whitestorm,” both Firepaw and Greypaw said in unison. They looked at each other and broke into giggles.

Whitestorm chuckled and just shook his head. “See you in a bit.” The white warrior stalked off to the warrior’s den. Firepaw and Greypaw had also finished the shrew they decided to eat together after the couple disappointing bites of the adder.

“I guess I’ll see you all later,” Firepaw said to the other warriors and Ravenpaw cheerfully. He and Greypaw got up and made their way to the apprentice’s den. Firepaw attempted conversation, but Greypaw only replied with grunts or nods. When Firepaw was about to ask what was wrong a voice sounded behind them when they reached the entrance to the den.

“Greypaw!” It was Lionheart. He had emerged from the medicine cat’s den. “Are you forgetting? You’re on bedding duty in the elder’s den.” The early afternoon sun reflected off the large warrior’s pelt, turning him into a big glowing beacon of responsibility.

“But Whitestorm said-!” Greypaw started.

“Don’t shout at me across the camp!” Lionheart interjected.

“I was _ordered_ to get some rest!” Greypaw retorted.

“It was a suggestion!” came Whitestorm’s voice from the warrior’s den.

“You’re all on bedding duty if I can’t get my damn beauty sleep, now shut up!!” Redtail’s voice replied, which was followed by scattered laugher within the den.

Greypaw rolled his eyes and shot Firepaw an apologetic glance. “Sorry, guess I’ll see you in combat training?”

Firepaw shook his head. “No big deal, mate. Yeah, I’ll see you then!”

Greypaw hesitated for only a moment with something that flickered in his eyes before turning around and trotting over to Lionheart. “For the record, you shouted at me first,” Firepaw heard him say.

“You’re unbelievable,” Lionheart rumbled.

‘So that’s why he was so quiet earlier,’ Firepaw thought. ‘Didn’t want to attract Lionheart’s attention.’ He entered the warm den and tried to find the nest he slept in previously. Firepaw wasn’t entirely sure if the nests were assigned, but he decided not to take a guess. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until he laid down and was able to doze off as soon as he closed his eyes.

It wasn’t long until Greypaw came to wake him, and the two met up with Whitestorm and Lionheart. The four departed out of the gorse tunnel, but not before Firepaw caught a glimpse of Sandpaw from across the clearing giving him the dirtiest of looks. Firepaw scrunched up his nose and stuck out his tongue in response. Much to his satisfaction, she looked absolutely taken aback. Firepaw skipped the rest of the way to the hollow.

“Wish I got a nap in, otherwise I’d join in,” Greypaw grumbled.

“The needs of the clan come before yours, Greypaw,” Lionheart said over his shoulder as they all approached the great oak.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with Whitestorm having Firepaw spar against Greypaw. Whitestorm and Lionheart would sometimes interject with some suggestions. Firepaw was honestly impressed with Greypaw’s technique. He didn’t really expect the apprentice to be this good, possibly as good as Dustpaw. He was, frankly, beating the crap out of Firepaw. After a few rounds Lionheart called it. The two young cats broke apart, panting hard.

“You’re really good at this,” Firepaw wheezed.

“I bloody well hope so,” Greypaw grinned at him. “I’m been training my tail off for months!”

Lionheart cleared his throat and the apprentices turned their attention to him. “I have a question for you Firepaw: did you have a chance to see what Greypaw was doing?”

“Besides kicking the stuffing out of me?” Firepaw joked.

Lionheart chuckled. “You seem to be good at identifying patterns, Firepaw. I was wondering if you could tell _how_ Greypaw was ‘kicking the stuffing’ out of you – if you were able to identify patterns in his technique.”

Firepaw nodded. The fight was undoubtedly chaotic, but he could see that there were some repeated moves here and there, so Firepaw was able to dodge and counter attack at times. “One that Greypaw seems to _love_ is a dodge to the side, then goes for a swipe at my one of my forelegs, but that’s a fake-out. He ends up then nipping the other foreleg instead and headbutts me under the chin as he comes back up.”

“You got good at dodging that last one, though,” Greypaw added and Firepaw playfully stuck his tongue out at the other apprentice.

Lionheart’s eyes twinkled. “I see. So Greypaw: it seems your using a combination of String Five and Nine. Am I right?”

“Yeah that’s right, Lionheart,” said Greypaw.

“Excellent work; glad to see you getting creative,” Lionheart said and Greypaw’s chest puffed up with pride.

“Firepaw,” Whitestorm said to the ginger apprentice. “I know we briefly covered ‘Strings’ and ‘Sets’, but to give you a more solid definition, a ‘String’ is a combination of three to four moves, while a ‘Set’ is a combination of three strings in a row. Sets are usually just used in this type of environment. In an actually combat situation you are encouraged to mix and match. Learning strings and sets act as the basics – something to be a base so you can develop a fighting style of your own. Does that make sense?”

Firepaw dipped his head. “Yes, Whitestorm.”

“With that, apprentices, let’s call it for tonight. Firepaw, Redtail would like you on the dawn patrol tomorrow,” said Lionheart. “Better get your rest when you can.”

Firepaw didn’t feel like resting at all. He had taken a nap hours ago, and training had only just made him feel more awake. He followed the two warriors and Greypaw out of the training hollow and back to camp. The sun was just dipping under the horizon when they returned and the sky was a soft orange. As soon as Firepaw padded into the clearing he was greeted with the sight of a familiar cat with matted grey fur and a flat, mean-looking face. Yellowfang was sitting leisurely in front of Bluestar and Spottedleaf near High Rock, her tail swishing from side to side.

Yellowfang seemed to catch Firepaw in the corner of her vision and she turned to look at him. Firepaw froze up in her pale yellow gaze and a crooked smile spread across her face. Yellowfang slowly made a slitting motion across her throat with her claw. Bluestar noticed this and flicked Yellowfang across her face with the tip of her tail. Firepaw shivered.

‘She has got to be messing with me. Like, she isn’t actually going to eat me, right?’ Firepaw thought. He walked to the fresh kill pile, feeling hungry after training. He looked over his shoulder and was relieved to find that Yellowfang wasn’t making any more threatening gestures at him. She seemed to still be chatting with the Thunderclan leader. Firepaw settled down with Greypaw near the fresh kill pile and began to browse his options.

“Hey lads,” Ravenpaw came and rested beside Firepaw. The apprenticed looked happier than Firepaw had ever seen him.

“You look well-rested,” Greypaw said, echoing Firepaw’s thoughts.

“Yeah, kinda had the best sleep I’ve had in ages,” Ravenpaw replied, pawing out a mouse from the pile.

Firepaw beamed at him, then selected a bird with orange feathers and white chest speckled with black. “What’s this?” he asked the other two.

“That’s called a thrush,” Greypaw answered. Firepaw’s mouth was watering, but he was considering maybe swapping the bird back with something less… feathery. Greypaw seemed to read his mind again. “It’s the feathers, right?”

“Yeah,” said Firepaw.

“What I usually do is pluck it around a bite-sized area,” Ravenpaw said. “Then y’know, eat that section, then pluck another space.”

“With my teeth?” Firepaw asked.

Ravenpaw and Greypaw exchanged smirks with each other. “Well, yeah,” Greypaw said. “What else?”

“Right,” Firepaw tentatively tugged on the feathers on the dead thrush’s chest and then pulled. He accidentally inhaled as he did so and coughed on a mouthful of tiny feathers which resulted in the other two apprentices sniggering at him. “Oi, no laughin’! It’s my first time eating a bird!”

“Doesn’t make it any less funny,” Greypaw giggled. Firepaw heard an uptick of commotion behind him and he glanced over his shoulder. Bluestar had climbed up the High Rock and cleared her throat.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the High Rock,” she called.

The two medicine cats of Thunderclan and Shadowclan were already present. Firepaw traded looks with his fellow apprentices and Greypaw only shrugged his shoulders before getting up and padding over to where the rest of the clan gathered. Firepaw followed his lead. He craned his neck over the heads of his clanmates to look at Yellowfang. She remained in the exact relaxed position she was in when Firepaw came back into camp. Spottedleaf, on the other paw, shifted anxiously. Bluestar’s icy gaze passed over the crowd and – Firepaw wasn’t sure if this was his imagination – the Thunderclan leader’s eyes seemed to rest on him for a heartbeat.

“Thunderclan,” Bluestar began. “This morning our dawn patrol came upon Yellowfang, medicine cat of Shadowclan, within our borders. She had been injured. Spottedleaf and I have spoken to her and Yellowfang told us that she has fled Shadowclan.” Bluestar had to pause as a rumble of murmurs rippled through the gathering. She held up her tail to ask for quiet. “Yellowfang claims that this is because she was forced to. There seems to be some sort of crisis occurring within Shadowclan.” This time other cats spoke to one another in whispers, allowing Bluestar to speak. “This is all I will reveal for now, as we have no basis for Yellowfang’s claims. I do believe she is being genuine, however now is not the time for speculation. If what she has said is true, we will find out for certain at tomorrow night’s gathering. For now, I ask for your patience and to be wary of Shadowclan’s borders.”

“You mean more than we already are?” Tigerclaw’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere and gained a few laughs from the crowd. Bluestar’s eyes twinkled and could hardly suppress a twitch of her whiskers.

“Yes, Tigerclaw -- more than usual, thank you,” she said. “That will be all. You’re all dismissed.” With that, Bluestar hopped down from the High Rock and landed in front of Yellowfang in a single, effortless, fluid motion. Firepaw couldn’t help but stare in admiration. He hoped one day to have that amount of grace with every action he made.

Greypaw waved his tail in front of the ginger apprentice’s face. “Oi, Firepaw, you in there?”

Firepaw blinked as he refocused. “Huh, what? What is it?”

Greypaw smiled and shook his head. “Guess I don’t blame ya,” he inflected his chin at the Thunderclan leader who was now talking to a dark-striped warrior and the two medicine cats. “Bluestar definitely is a warrior to be admired. She’s leader for a reason, after all.”

“How many times I gotta tell you off for the outbursts?” Redtail’s voice sounded behind Firepaw. The Thunderclan deputy was sitting in front of Tigerclaw, his tail lashing side to side in irritation.

“Trying to ease the tension,” Tigerclaw purred. Firepaw now realized just how big the dark brown warrior was as he was talking down at Redtail who looked so tiny in comparison. Tigerclaw was only just smaller than Lionheart, Firepaw reckoned.

“I ought to give you a few more nicks in your ears,” Redtail grumbled.

Tigerclaw pouted. “You’re so mean to me!”

Redtail only rolled his eyes. “Just don’t be rude.” The deputy stalked off in the direction of the warrior’s den. Fire, Raven, and Greypaw all looked at each other and snickered.

“Alright, well I’m gonna go finish that bird. What’s it called again?” said Firepaw.

“Thrush,” Ravenpaw answered.

“Thrush, right.”

“We’ll teach ya how to de-feather the thing,” said Greypaw. Firepaw blinked at him appreciatively.

“So are you also gonna be on the dawn patrol tomorrow,” Ravenpaw asked Firepaw as the three of them made their way back to the fresh kill pile.

“Yeah, Whitestorm mentioned Redtail wanted me to join him. Are you going?”

Raven nodded. “Tigerclaw and me, yeah.”

Despite Firepaw’s tiredness, he still felt a rush of excitement. It didn’t really matter if it was going to be early in the morning. He was going to get the opportunity to explore Thunderclan territory further. “Another thing: I remember Lionheart mentioning a gathering at Fourtrees. That’s the same gathering that Bluestar was talking about right?”

The two apprentices nodded. “That’s right,” Greypaw answered. Firepaw went silent with thought as he settled back down in front on the dead thrush. Greypaw looked at him quizzically. “Firepaw?”

“I was just wondering,” Firepaw said. “Does the whole clan go to the gathering?”

“Not everyone,” said Ravenpaw.

“Leaders typically pick only a few of us to come along,” Greypaw added.

“I guess that makes sense,” said Firepaw. He absentmindedly pawed at the thrush.

“What are you thinking,” Greypaw had picked out a bird of his own. This one was about a similar size with brown feather and a red chest.

“I’m thinking I’d like to go to that gathering,” said Firepaw. “I think I’d like to know what’s going on with Shadowclan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIATUS OFFICIALLY OVER YEAH BABEY


End file.
